Among the Comets and the Stars
by Daughter of the Bomb
Summary: A lonely Darcy witnesses a meteor crashing towards Earth. Chaos ensues. Will eventually be Darcy/Loki.
1. Coke and Rum

This had started out in desperation.

I don't really know why I'd started visiting the local bar, but I had.

I don't really know what I'd thought was going to happen there.

But every now and then on a Saturday at seven pm I'd show up at Stan's advertised hot spot that had every liquor known to frequent a hick's dream, and order myself a coke and rum.

At the first couple of my visits Jane came with me, seven months after Thor had yet to return; saying _'it's not likely that tonight's going to be any different than last night'_ or _the last night_, or _the last night_, or _the last night_, or the hundred _'last night's_ after that.

She really was kind of a sad little geek.

(But I'd be bitch if I didn't say she was my sad little geek.)

So after the first five Saturdays came and went I let her go, I could see in her eyes that she was just itching to wait for her Nordic Fabio to return to her. Even if that meant watching the skies with tear filled eyes, heart fluttering at the slightest of disturbances in that giant star littered dark mass, ever hopeful and true.

For those seven months I had stayed by her side, only so that she wouldn't be alone in the merciless dessert of New Mexico, at first it made me sad to see her waiting for him. She had been so strong and independent before all of this, not the sob story whiney ass bitch she's turned into. '_Mehhhhhhh, where'd he go….? Why isn't he here yet…..? Ughhh, what is the point in living without my hunky mannnnnn….? Darcy why did you eat all my chocolattttttte…..? I thought we were friendssssssssssssss…'_.

You know what? Yes I am a heartless skank, I'm angry at a friend who's merely missing her not official boyfriend. It's not her fault, and I should help her through this.

BUT SHE HAS BEEN LIKE THIS FOR TEN MONTHS NOW.

THAT ALMOST A YEAR OF _'Life is soo hard without Thorrrrrrrrrrr… I still love him soooo much, even though I hardly know him… He wouldn't lie to meee…. He loves me toooo…. Right Darcy?'_

IF IT WASN'T FOR TWITTER THAT WOMAN WOULD BE DEAD.

(Twitter is where I angst my little heart out.)

JANE FOSTER WOULD BE DEAD. I WOULD HAVE KILLED HER. WHAT WOULD SHE BE? DEAD. WHY? BECAUSE I KILLED HER. WHAT WOULD BE MY MOTIVE? SHE WAS BEING ANNOYING.

Ugh…

I can be a good friend, I promise.

But that woman is driving me crazy.

And thus, my trips to the bar… Began…

Again, I don't really know what I was doing or why I was going, but I was. I'm not even sure where I even got the idea to go in the first place. It wasn't a place that was anything like the bars at my hometown where I grew up, yet it was a place I would turn to for comfort, or at least a good mix of coke and rum. And that seemed worth it enough, that was a good enough excuse.

But really… I've known all along what I've wanted…

_I want a guy_.

Yea, shut up, I know I'm kinda being a hypocrite since I was just complaining about what a complete nuisance Jane was being ever since she met Thor, but…

No, I'll tell you now that it's not just for sex, although that would be nice…

But… What I want… What I really, truly, want…

_Is someone I can be with. _

I dunno, maybe that's why I've been so pissed off at Jane, 'cuz she has someone, and I don't. It's just… I've seen the way he looks at her, and the way she looks at him… And it's almost scary, that intense love that they have, and how fast it happened; that terrifying knowledge that they would do anything for each other, even if it meant watching the stars for forever, even if it meant searching for forever for a gateway that might not exist.

I want _that_.

And I have never wanted _that_ more than I have right now.

So here I sit, at the bar, on a Saturday, at eight twenty five pm.

The night is still young.

But I know that this night will end the same as last night.

(_And the last night, and the last night, and the last night, and the last night_.)

I will leave this place alone, without a soul to hold close to mine.


	2. Another Thor's Day

It's Thursday.

Another stupid, boring, lifeless, Thursday.

Here in New Mexico it only seems to reinforce that idea.

Here it is lifeless.

(As in no life.)

For miles and miles around.

Jane keeps reminding me that the chances of Thor showing up have somehow magically increased because in the kids book of Nordic legends Thursday is Thor's Day.

Which means I get to look forward to a long night of staying up until sunrise, with a giant cup of star bucks in the biggest size they have, alongside the ever go lucky Jane Foster.

Why can't there be more internet serial killers?

(I'm on the internet a lot. They would've found me by now.)

The only thing that keeps me a little content is the fact that this could actually get worse.

(Worse being that she would make us drive out in her bat mobile.)

"Hey Darcy?"

"Sup."

"Have you seen my jacket?"

Oh hell naw. Please, no, don't let her find it.

"Nope. I haven't seen it anywhere. Didn't you lose it since the last time we were out there?"

JANE PLEASE STOP LOOKING FOR IT. I DUN WANNA LEAVEEEEEEEEEE…..

"Oh, never mind. I found it!"

I'm putting myself up on craigslist.

"C'mon Lewis, let's hit the road before it gets dark. Oh! And it's supposed to be extra chilly tonight, so I'd bring a thick jacket if I were you. You know how cold it can be."

'_Single, pretty brunette, blue eyes, nice ass, none saggy boobs, expects to die alone.'_

That sounds good; hopefully they'll be quick when they kill me.

…

I could be doing so many other things right now.

(…Like reading a book. Practicing my sewing. Going on Face book. Buying new songs on iTunes. Playing Sims 3. Spending hours on YouTube. Catching up with Jersey Shore. Illegally downloading pirated movies. Drawing a mustache on my hand. Clipping my toe nails…?)

Okay… So maybe I _don't_ have that many things I could be doing right now.

But now I really want mustache hand man.

I climb over Jane's sleeping body, seeing as it is her shift to sleep; I stumble, almost falling on her, accidently causing all the random who-even-knows-what that was once so ungracefully stuffed in that it has now fallen to a pile on the floor. But on top of that pile sits a black sharpie; I grab it and with a strong bite down on the lid I give it a sharp tug and it's uncapped with my left hand waiting diligently for its tattoo. With a gentle swing of my wrist and a fast two dot stab I look back and take a look at my master piece.

(That's gotta be one of the best mustaches I've ever drawn.)

But now there's that pile.

Eh, I'll pick it up later.

Damn I'm tired.

Against my will I lean back in the passenger's seat, I spare the sky a look before these eyes shut, wondering silently what time it is as I look at the dark sky. There is no sun on the horizon, yet. But the moon has already passed over us, so theres just a couple hours left.

Wait…

Okay, if the moons gone…

Then what the hell is that?

"Uh, Jane…? A giant star thingy's headed straight for us…"

And she's not waking up…

"JANE, DAMN IT WOMAN, WAKE UP."

And... Yea not quite…

So then I turn up the radio crazy loud, and within seconds she jumps up, startled straight out of her slumber. Mwahahaha I am so mean. This is karma for her making me come here.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I point at the oval sized body of pure light that's headed almost directing at the spot where our tank of a car is parked. It's getting close and it's getting close fast. We need to act quickly if we want to live.

But of course, I'm not really thinking right now.

I'm kind of staring in horror like a deer in the headlights.

Luckily, I have Jane to think for me.

She starts the car… and heads straight towards it.

Yea, not so lucky anymore…

She's driving like the maniac she is while I'm all but yet screaming as the car bounces up and down over the bumps of the desert. Tossing us back and forth inside, turning my brains into something of a scrambled egg in the process, all this and meanwhile the radio is still blaring at full volume.

It takes a while, but soon I'm used to it and can concentrate better, happy to realize that it turns out that light mass thing wasn't as close as it looked, but it was still racing towards our general direction.

I really hope it doesn't hit us, because then we would be dead.

And I'd prefer an internet serial killer any day rather than a… meteor thing.

Wait…

"Jane, take a second and look at that thing. It doesn't look anything like the Bifröst and it doesn't look like that funnel cloud the 'destroyer' fell from. The only type of science I know is political, but that thing looks a lot like a meteor to me…" I'm watching her closely to see her reaction to what I just said, and use as much will as I have not to jump for joy, when her suicidal madness fades and her foot slowly lets up on the gas as the car ends its break neck speed.

DARCY: 1

JANE: 0

"Damn it, Darcy. You're right." She leans back in the driver's seat, gazing back up at the night sky; either looking for Thor, or looking for answers, those two seem to mean the same thing.

"Let's go back to base; I'm tired, you're tired, and we've been out here long enough. We'll check out the meteor crash tomorrow so S.H.I.E.L.D. can't say that we didn't look at it." She starts to turn the car in the same path that we had just come from, and I can't even fully express my happiness at the idea of sleeping in my bed tonight.

(HEEEEEEEEEEEE.)

…

But looking back at it… we really should have gone to the crash when it had happened.


	3. Desert Playlist

**Hey guys! It's really nice to hear how much some of you guys love Darcy. Which is, in all actuality, quite epic; because I mixed Darcy and I's thoughts, so when you guys say you think that she's funny, in my brain it turns to 'HUR, DEY TINK IM FUNNAH. YAY!111!1' Which is amazing because I then feel loved. And this is my first time ever writing humor, so your reviews are even more appreciated. Anywho, I love you all and want to send you all kittens in the mail. But besides the fact that would resolve in a bunch of dead kittens, I happen to be ridiculously poor, sooooo…****Sorry, no (possibly dead) kittens for you.****But I send my love in the form of mind cookies; and in the form of updates, which might happen every Thursday (Ha, Thor's day for the pwn). But possibly not this Thursday, I might be in South Dakota… or Kneebraska, whichever my mum desides on.**

**Is this rant long enough?**

**Again, love you all, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**-D.o.t.B.**

"Up and at 'em Darcy, it's a bright new day."

"IWILLSHOOTYOUINTHEFACE."

"What was that?" I'm so happy Jane couldn't understand what I was saying. I screamed into my pillow, taking out my anger on it's gentle fluffiness. Of course this was a pleasure Jane would never let me enjoy; for soon she ripped the blankets off of me, grabbed me by the ankles, and dragged me far, far away from my comfort. This 'far, far away' meant I was dragged viciously over the end of my bed and onto the carpet. This carpet was better known as the hard, inflexible, I-hate-you, kind of angry tan colored carpet.

(I'd rather sleep on rocks than that stuff… I can feel its hate. And yes, carpets can hate.)

"Now hurry up and get dressed, we need to go check out that meteor site; something we should have done yesterday, Darce." I turned onto my back to look up at her.

"C'mon J, what're the chances of it being important?"

"Define 'important'."

"Important enough for me to have to get up this early…" She did that happy laugh thing that she does, and walked off to go get dressed at her own place, leaving me in a mess by myself, burdened with the job to become untangled.

And I like being tangled.

I like being comfortable in my bed tangled.

But since that's not gunna happen, I might as well get ready.

Damn it.

I hate it when Jane gets her way.

Especially when her way gets in my way.

Here goes the usual morning clothes; the tight yet secretly comfy skinny jeans, the 'it's practically a slipper' yet practical high heeled boots, the simple tank top that I slept in the night before but doesn't show it, the slap stick eye liner and dash of mascara, with the gallon of chap stick. And last, but not least, the cloth jacket that hugs me back when I snuggle down in the glory of it's amazingness.

(Amazingness needs to be a word. And it needs to be a word _now_.)

Within seven minutes Jane's back at my place and ready to go, and like the two wanna be femme fatale of S.H.I.E.L.D. that we are; we model walk over to the hulking tank mobile, acting too-cool-for-school, and way too cool to talk to anyone here for that matter.

"And where do you think you two are going?"

Dayum you Agent Phil Coulson. That man is the personification of a dry spell. He's the monster that killed the emperor's groove. And he's also kinda in charge of basically everything, which means we have to be nice to him and make sure we dot our i's and cross our t's.

"Um, a, uh. A-a meteor crashed last night and we… need to check it out." Jane gets nervous around government. Jane also gets nervous around guys. Phil is both. Bad combination for Jane.

"I thought you two were on watch last night." How is it _humanly possible_ that he notices _everything_ that people _don't want_ him to notice?

(Simple: Phil Coulson is a robot, or a re-programmed terminator. Then again terminators are robots sooooo…. Phil's just kind of a robot either way.)

Jane can't lie for shit.

So I'm up to bat.

"Agent Coulson, we can't watch the _entire sky_ all the time. We're bound to miss _something_."

COULSON: 1

DARCY: 2

JANE: 0

"Fine, but I want a full report from both of you when you get back; I want it to describe the look, feel, and smell of the remnants of the crash. I want it to include how big the crash site is, how deep it is, and how far away it is from the town and our base. Now ask certain questions about the crash site; are there strange disturbances in the area surrounding it? does the air feel different? does the area feel different? is there anything that leads from the crater to outside the area of the crash? I want pictures, pieces, and samples. Now-."

"But what if it's just a giant rock?"

"Then I want it to be the most detailed rock ever recorded. Got it?"

"Yess… Yes I think so."

"Good. Now go." And with that he turned to do his model walk away. Leaving me and Jane kind of star struck by the gianormus lecture he'd just given. So of course I interrupt it.

"Hey… Hey Jane?"

"Um, yea Darcy?"

"Dibs on not smelling the rock."

…

There are no songs that sound 'desert-y'.

That's because there is no way to describe the desert.

(In song anyway…)

But this all means that I have no desert themed playlist to listen and drone away like a happy little worker bee while looking and touching and writing a freakin' novel on a _rock_. Now I don't really know if other people have this sort of problem, I know that pretty much the whole point of listening to music is so you can forget about whatever boring thing you're doing, not using music to help you work, but that's how I function.

And that's how I've been functioning.

So when I can't find a good song or playlist: _I can't function_.

Yes, I know I'm a music freak, so sue me, but I like being a music freak.

It has a ton of benefits.

(Just not right now.)

So after many anger filled trips down my list of alphabetically arranged artists (tongue twister much?) I finally give up, rip my head phones out of my ears, and put a choke hold with my thumb down on the middle button until the screen goes blank and my iPod has turned off. I wrap my ear buds around and around until there's no extra cord before I slip it in through the open passenger's window so it can go hibernate with the rest of the mess on the ground that I never really picked up.

"Hey, could you pick up that mess you made last night sometime soon? I need the space."

"Yes, _mom_." I mumble beneath my breath. And shut up okay? Yes, I know I'm being a bit bitchy and over dramatic, but J needs to learn to be polite _sometime soon_, mkay? I know she's technically my boss and all, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't get respect; even if she is the one that does most of the work, I'm the one who helps her get it done…

Ugh, it's one of those times when I need a moment.

"Jane, I'm gunna run up to the crater and check it out real quick, is that okay?"

"Yep, just make sure you come back and help me unload all our equipment."

"Thanks J, I'll be right back."

Aaaaaaand bye.

Believe it or not, but in high school, P.E. wasn't one of the classes that I completely failed at. I actually kind of liked some of the stuff we did; but out of all the stuff we did, I liked running the best. I don't really know why I like running, I just do. Something about how it solemnly depends on you moving yourself from point A to point B; and about using your body, the very thing you depend upon to stay alive, and how it serves as your evolution born right to run, the right to be your own mode of transportation.

I dunno, seems pretty cool to me. Then again, I'm a little bit of a nerd.

And the rhythmic beat of my feet hitting the rocks beneath me lull me into a numb state of mind, which is really enjoyable, even if these shoes are basically considered high heels; in that moment of dulled nature I forget all that in the silence. I worked merely to savor the moment while it lasted before I reached the hill and the dip that followed the crash site.

What I saw when I reached the top of the hill… And I wouldn't really realize it at the time, but it would come to change a lot of things for me… and for everyone else…

Obviously, it wasn't a rock.

The crash site itself was typical to that of a meteor, so my guess hadn't been that far off in that sense; as for everything else… Well yea, everything else I was… Pretty much completely wrong about. Everything else being, well, the remnants, or the cause, of the crater.

At a quick glance, there wasn't anything spectacular about it.

Yea, I didn't see a rock, or a meteor; so that got me curious about what had caused a crater of this size and magnitude. It small really, around the size of a human body, which meant that it must have fallen from a great amount of distance to cause a crater of so big a size. Thor's hammer had left a crater smaller than this, which suggested that whatever had caused this was bigger than Thor's hammer, supporting the theory that this was around the size of a human. What seemed a little bit off to me was that it was… shiny. It must have had a metal or a metal like alloy that gave it that famous metallic shine that caused the type of reflection from the sun that it was now getting. Next thing I noticed was that it was in pieces, each ranging in similar, yet different, sizes. I counted around eight pieces that were all around one to two feet long, each seemingly randomly scattered around it's central point.

And, well… Curiosity killed the cat…

I edged in closer to the aftermath of the wreckage.

It seemed like a harmless idea at the time.

From two feet away my eyes narrowed, studying the metal pieces.

Now, I'm not well known with this type of stuff, really, I'm not. But from where I was crouched, some of the wreckage was starting to not look that much like wreckage, but vaguely reminded me of plastic knight's costumes I used to see kids wear when Halloween rolled around.

I mean c'mon, look; there was a shoulder guard… thing, but nearby lay it's matching pair. And there was two metal infused with some kind of rough brown to black material, that looked like some type of guard thing too. And look; there was two shin guards that were fit to work on someone's forearm. There was even something that looked like a chest plate, and attached at two hooks lay a ragged cloth of sorts. Of course, against better judgment, I cautiously grabbed the material and smoothly ran my fingers along it's surprisingly soft pelt. I tried to pull myself away from the scene, to not make it personnel, when I noticed perhaps the most valuable piece of evidence, which lay abandoned several feet away.

A smile cut my features as my brows furrowed at the sight of the weird looking thing.

It kinda… No, no, it wasn't… Hell no… But, well…

My smile, within mere seconds, left my face.

It looked… A lot like someone's helmet.

It clicked. It all clicked.

The reason it looked like a knight's armor… was because it was armor.

Someone's armor…

And I sincerely doubt that they were a knight…

Were? They could still be around.

My head flew up, my eyes rapidly searching my surroundings; looking for life, or a dead body, or anything really. All I noticed was that there was foot prints leading from the abandoned armor to a pile of disregarded… clothes? Were those clothes? They looked kinda like clothes… I guess… My eyes ticked back and forth between the armor and the clothes, seizing the idea that from the central point of the crash, whoever it was, had taken off the armor and then taken off the clothes underneath the armor, obviously.

But, well… Why?

Well, wait a sec…

Didn't things falling from space, _usually_ meteors, they gained speed, as their fall continued, moving them faster and faster towards their eventual destination, which was earth in this case. But with that train of thought, with that much speed there was an increase in friction, right? And with the more friction, heat was created between the two objects, right? But since the meteor is just passing through the galaxy, or sky, or whatever, the meteor would gain more heat than the sky galaxy thing, right? Right. So that would make the meteor hot. Like, super, mega, roast a thousand marshmallows hot, right? And since metal is a good, if not one of the best of the elements, at conducting heat, it'd be even hotter.

That's why they took it off.

But, well, how could someone even survive something like that? Last time anyone had visited from a different realm or whatever, like Thor and the warrior people, they had used the Bifröst, but this person had just skipped the Bifröst and jumped.

No one could have survived that.

Unless…

They were a god.


	4. Left to MySelf

**A chapter in which I am a horrible person (but technically, it's Darcy; although I did come up with it). **

**THERE ARE ALSO ALOT OF THOUGHTS! So I sincerly hope that it doesn't get annoying for anyone... Plus theres a little bit of language ahead... And Darcy has a schizophrenic moment (don't we all?).**

**Anywho, I hope you all enjoy, and please review **

**See ya!**

**~D.o.t.B.**

Fuck…

They were… A _god_.

That made this situation very serious, very fast.

Which meant that me and Jane were screwed over.

Wait, Jane…?

"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!"

(heh, I kinda forgot about her…)

With all the energy I had left combined with everything I was worth I ran as fast as I possibly could towards the tank car, all while screaming Jane's name. No, this wasn't a pleasant little jog, this was 'THE A-TACO-LIPS IS COMING' run that pushed me to the limit and kept pushing me. I ran with my everything; she had to know what I know and she had to know it _now_.

(But now I finally had a soundtrack.)

_I believe the world is burning to the ground. Oh well, I guess we're gunna find out._

_Let's see how far we've come, Let's see how far we've come._

_I believe it all is coming to an end. Oh well, I guess we're gunna pretend._

_Let's see how far we've come, Let's see how far we've come._

…

"Darcy, what's wrong?" Jane's watching me with widened and wild brown eyes. I've been running so hard all I can do is pant, lungs expanding and demanding air to fill the extra space, this leaves no room for an answer, so I point to the crater and shake my head back in forth.

'_No, no Jane, the crater. There's no meteor, a meteor didn't cause that.'_

Of course, she doesn't understand that. Who could? This makes her mouth flap up and down, greedily to ask for answers that I can't give, not right now anyway.

But we have to keep moving towards answers.

I run to the tank car and grab the emergency phone we have hammered into the back doors; trembling, my thumb crushes against speed dial. Listening to the random beepy noises I know that I am that much closer; I can feel that I am_ that much _closer.

"Hello? Foster, Lewis, is this you?" Agent Coulson's may as well have been God himself.

I tried to catch my breath as best as I could, to explain both to Coulson as well as Jane what the hell was going on, 'cuz I'll be damned if they're not confused right now.

"Ca-ca-crat-tur… N-n-not… Mete…eor… G-god…"

"There's a god there, at the crash site; is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"N-not god. God-d's arm…or… God's… Armor… Artifact."

"We'll be right out."

…

The people who work at S.H.I.E.L.D. are super effective.

(It's kind of scary.)

In less than fifteen minutes they knew where we were, drove out a dozen of their agents in fancy pants cars, flew out five giant omega big black official looking helicopters, created a crazy looking perimeter complete with barbed wire and sniper posts, built on the spot scientist labs, and constructed twelve port-y-potties.

Like I said, they're really effective… And pretty scary.

(These people are not human…)

And then there's me and Jane, sitting in a metaphoric corner, watching it all happen like kids watching pet tigers being feed at a zoo. Both mystified and terrified.

(Personally I'm scared that if I draw attention to myself they'll rip me apart.)

So of course Jane wants to help.

(I'm friends with her again… why?)

So that leaves me, alone, drowning in a whirlpool of thoughts.

(Like being flushed down a toilet… of my mind.)

(Hey that could be a Christopher Nolan movie.)

(He directed 'Inception', right?)

(Yea, yea he did. That movie's a mind fuck.)

(Guy in the suit was hot though.)

(Too bad he hooked up with Ellen Page.)

(Leonardo DiCaprio wasn't even that hot in that.)

(But he was hot in 'Romeo and Juliet'.)

(The people in that movie talked funny though.)

(Talked funny like Thor did.)

That caused an image of Thor and Jane pop out of nowhere.

(Ew.)

(Mentally scarred now.)

(I think I'll get a drink later.)

(Wait, it's not Saturday yet.)

It's Saturday somewhere.

(NO IT'S NOT.)

Aaaaaand 'sigh'.

This really is kind of all my fault.

O random probably super mega foxy hot Nordic god, please forgive me.

I am the reason that you are now roaming the desert of New Mexico, without food or water.

(Oh man if they die I am sooooooooooooooooo screwed…)

For you see, O random sexy stranger, I am the one who talked Jane Foster out of driving to your rescue; if not for me, you would be safe and secure, with all the food and water that you could consume and drink until your little heart's desire.

But sadly that was not to be.

'_But why_,' you may ask '_Why Darcy Lewis, why did you stop the mighty Jane from saving me_?'

The answer is simple, my dear starving friend:

I was tired and wanted to go home.

'_But I am tired_,' you plead to me '_And I too want to go home. And even though my home now rests beyond the stars, I was hoping that I could have made your home my own, and we could have shared the shelter; if you would have saved me I would have been so sincerely grateful_!'

But that did not happen, and there is no way to change the past, stranger.

'_But why_?' you yell, saddened by your fate, '_Why do you do this to me Darcy_?'

Because it is the only way that I can.

'_But what have I done to deserve so terrible a fate as this_?' tears streaming down your face.

Absolutely nothing.

And to my knees you crumble.

There there, there there.

I grab your in my hands, a glimmer of hope sparkles in your watered eyes.

And then, with upmost cruel intent, I eat your beautiful tears fresh from your face.

Now you know only the end waits, and all of your hope for life is dead.

"Ms. Lewis, how are you feeling?"

"I'M GOING TO HELL." Bursting into tears I unceremoniously launch myself onto Agent Coulson and cling to him like a baby bat does to it's mother.

"Ms. Lewis… Ms. Lewis, I'm sure you're not going to hell…"

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT FOR SURE." I pull back and adamantly I nod my head back and forth in a positive 'no' force, Coulson fights back a shiver at my scrunched up tear streamed face. Ugh, I must be such a mess, my mascara's probably everywhere; I look like a clown.

(Which is probably a good thing since I'm such a joke anyway.)

And with all these self destructive thoughts I cry even harder, and there I go again; two broken halves of the Titanic soon to sink into the dark blue abyss of Coulson's formal navy blue jacket.

And I just kind of stay like that. I'm not really sure how long.

(Coulson smells like Old Spice.)

Eventually he tries to shake me, or at least I assume he does, and I stayed glued.

I haven't cried on a guy in a while. It's quite therapeutic actually.

He tries again, and this time I budge, if only a little bit.

But now he's holding my shoulders, his face empathetic.

"Darcy, get a hold of yourself. We just need to walk around a little bit, and then you can keep crying, okay? Everything's going to be alright. You are not. Going. To. Hell." He can be a surprisingly reassuring person when he's not slapping orders in the face.

With sniffles and a boat of courage I gather the broken shards of my mental state, and walk with Coulson to where ever the hell he's taking me. I don't really know. And I'm not really paying attention either.

All I know is that we got in a car. And then he's shaking my shoulders.

"We're back at base; do you want to come in?"

"…Yesss…" I watch him from sleep shaded eyes.

"Then you need to get up and walk. I'm not carrying you." His words are mean to my tired mind, yet I understand his meaning. I wouldn't carry anyone either.

"But _Coooooolson_…. That takes _efffurt_…" And like magic he pulls me out of the car.

But he doesn't carry me. Instead he keeps me up with one of his arms and helps me walk.

And yea, I still don't know where we're going…

It's only until we get close to the front door when I realize we're going to my house. And then we're in my house, and I _think_ he used a key (again I wasn't paying attention) so he really could have teleported us in for all I know. Dragging me over to the couch he lays me down and goes to the shelf where I keep all my DVDs, where he grabs one and goes to turn on the TV and DVD player. Once it's on he puts the movie he selected in, and makes movements towards the door.

"_Byyyyyyyyyyyye Couls_. _You're a nice robot…"_

"Thank you. Good bye Darcy."

'The Proposal' starts up with Ryan Reynolds and I'm so happy I almost cry.

And I do cry, but it's because of how completely _alone_ I am.


	5. Puppies

(We slip between the cracks.)

I guess that could describe how I feel right now.

I don't even know how I feel right now.

My senses go unregistered.

And you know what?

Fuck this shit.

I'm turning on the music.

I love playing music loud and proud in the morning, helps wake me up; and there's nothing right now that could make me feel better after a night of crying than a crazy upbeat song.

(Although a steamy shirtless man would be nice.)

(Then again a steamy shirtless man would be nice in any situation…)

(…)

Those… are some nice images…

(OH YES THEY ARE!)

(HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!)

REGARDLESS; I have to get ready.

(FFFFF I DUN WANNA.)

SILENCE; NO MORE INNER CONFLICT.

TOMORROWS SATURDAY.

I WILL SURVIVE UNTIL THEN.

(Or will I? Mwahahahagaga!)

(…)

(… I sound like a crazy cat lady…)

But I don't have any cats.

(And _that's_ the sad part.)

Well, cheers to being single.

(God knows I need the alcohol.)

FUCK. THAT'S RIGHT.

SATURDAY WHY YOU TAKE SO LONG?

Okay, um, fa la la; time for music!

For my sake, I turn it up really loud.

…

"Darcy! It's about time you got here."

"I brought _coffee_!"

(I use coffee to save my ass when I'm late. It works.)

I quickly hand Jane her 'one sugar, one cream' cup of joe, and greedily she takes it.

"Did you bring me any coffee?"

(FFFF IT'S COULSON.)

(FIX THIS. GOTTA FIX THIS NOW.)

_nuegh_.

"I can _make_ you coffee!" I give him my best suck up smile I can muster this early in the morning, but he still looks a lil pissed…

(Then again he's Coulson; after so much brooding his face is probably just stuck like that.)

"Sadly, we don't have time for that." He turns to walk towards the super fancy spotless cars that all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents seem to drive that's parked outside, but this one looks a bit like a small limo. It's kinda cute actually…

(D'AWWWW, IT'S A BABY LIMO!)

"Well, what _do_ we have time for?" Good question J. _This_ is another example as a good reason as to why I'm friends with her; she keeps me from being distracted… most the time.

(Dude I want a puppy.)

STOP IT. Now pay attention; it looks like Coulson's about to speak English.

"Our people at the lab have re-constructed the armor found at the crash site to the way it should have fit on the person who was once wearing it. Now we need you two to identify who the supposed 'God' who's armor this belongs to; a relatively simple chore. After the course of this chore has ended I am to be alerted, and then you two can continue working on whatever project you had before this. Are we clear?" We exit the lab and into the face melting desert.

"Crystal." Jane snips in a quick reply before Coulson goes 'to infinity and beyond' and leaves.

(Yes that is how he leaves places.)

(It just is.)

"Well I guess this is our ride…" I look towards the ink painted car and begin to walk towards it, Jane walks with stumbling self confidence behind me until she catches up and we walk in even pace together. We don't really talk… Talking isn't necessary anymore.

We are two girls on a mission.

But _ugh_. I _reallllly_ hope that car has air conditioning.

(A puppy would be so _cute_ right now.)

…

"Okay, so Darcy, your mission is going to be to I.D. this guy, okay?" Fine.

"Yeah, it's all good."

I am _a girl_ on a mission.

Just go ahead, Jane Foster, leave me by my lonesome. It's not like I wanted to have a friend down here in this creepy… metal basement with… morgue like qualities.

Oh no, no, I like this place. In fact, it reminds me of the good old days…

(when I hung out in morgues…?)

Umm, yea, sure.

_The good old days when I hung out in __**morgues**_.

(Why not?)

Ugh.

God guy; who are you?

They have it all set up here in the lab place; they really had re-constructed it, piece by agonizing piece. They have it all laid out on a stainless steel table in the middle of this suffocating place; reminds me of a hollow snake skin I found in the grass when I was a kid. From the feet to the thigh it's mostly worn-down dark brown leather, just dark enough that you hardly notice the black scorch marks at first glance. But on the upper thigh of this second skin, there's a leather plate with gold outlining the edges and forming a spinning criss-cross kind of pattern. And of course then there's a green to brown jerkin underneath all the metal armor, a somewhat similar color to the pants. Placed on top of the sleeves of the shirt are golden bracers. There's one on the forearm and another up on the shoulder on both arms. Higher up on the chest, around an inch or two down from where the collar bone would've been, a rough chain mail rested on top of the shirt yet underneath the chest plate. In two clasps hanging off the shoulder blades the cape I felt yesterday lay under the armor in a valley of green, bringing out the other green hues present throughout the suit. And then there's the chest plate I briefly mentioned earlier; a kaleidoscope of muted sunset, gold bent and twisted within itself in such an impossible fashion that my brain hurt from even trying to understand how someone could have crafted so intricate a design. I've been looking this God's husk for a while now, each time finding something even more interesting about it; but for some reason my eyes keep coming back to one detail that would normally pale in comparison to the rest of the suit, but it doesn't. Placed gently atop the rest of the seeming collapsed armor, silently awaiting it's master; a golden helmet waits. Its base is typical, shaped in an average fashion, but it's not that… It's the arched horns that swerve backwards and incline down close to the base of the helmet.

It's… _pretty_. The whole thing; _beautiful_, _fantastic_, _magnificent_.

But kind of… terrifying, actually.

Man… the suit's I've seen in dungeons and dragons don't have shit on this…

(I'm starting to think that Jane's seriously rubbing off on me…)

(I need more friends…)

(And not just facebook friends.)

(Real life friends.)

(Steamy sexy men with puppies type friends.)

(DAMNIT DARCY FOCUS.)

The helmet was the key to finding out who this god was.

(More like _is_. They could be alive.)

You don't keep something that iconic undocumented.

It has to be here somewhere.

And if I have to go to hell and back, no matter what I will find it.

With quick decision bounding down my spine I stand up from my seat on the computer chair and almost run to where all our books on Norse Mythology where crudely stacked.

_Please tell me that Erik didn't take it with him when he left for DC_…

My tired eyes flicker from title to title of all the varied dusty smelling books, until at last I am rewarded with the sight of the plainly titled 'Norse Mythology'.

(Author, you are _soooo_ creative.)

Wait. This was the copy Erik used, right?

I'll never know until I see…

Of course this book is placed _oh so conveniently _at the bottom of one of the columns of books.

(Fuck my Life.)

But, you know what? Look at all the shits I give.

Without a care in the world I pull it out and let the rest scatter to the floor in a mess of aged paper and fading ink, with a dazed look I contemplate the array of books.

"Whoops."

Eh, I'll pick it up later.

(Maybe.)

But since I'm here…

I grab a couple smaller less scary looking mythology books for the road.

Walking back with steps of self retribution I sit back down in my thankfully cushioned seat; ready to read up and find out once and for all who the hell this guy is. Once down I grab my iPod out of my sewn black bag and stuff the headphones into my ears so I can mindlessly listen to some music to help me start working. Scrolling up and down my list of artists I causally pick the perfect song to help me get the job done.

_Is it bright where you are?_

_And have the people changed?_

_Does it make you happy? You're so strange._

_And in your darkest hour;_

_I hold secrets flame._

_We can watch the world devoured in it's pain._

(I feel so emo, but this song is still pretty cool.)

Skimming through the book I can tell that this is in fact Erik's copy of the book, and I would do a happy dance, _buuuuuut_ I'm too comfortable and lazy so I just smile.

(That's good enough, right?)

(Right.)

Of course then I start to notice all the little hand written notes, smeared scribbles, and ear marked pages that Erik's left in the path of his destruction while this book was still in his possession.

Didn't anyone ever tell him not to write in books?

C'mon, it's basic common courtesy.

(Then again I kinda knocked over an entire stack of books… so I can't really talk.)

I _will_ pick that up though.

(Just like you'll pick up the stuff that fell out of the glove compartment in Jane's car?)

I WILL GET TO IT EVENTUALLY AND THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

(Oh sure you will.)

Dude I totally won't.

(Exactly. Now let's hope she forgets.)

Oh hey, it's Thor.

Printed in vanishing reds and yellows and assorted colors is Jane's boy toy shown as a stroke of lightning cracks down and strikes the hammer held tightly in his grasp. In black pen Thor's hammer has been circled and in shaking cursive Erik's writing prints: 'Mjolnir?'

Hell, I'm in a relatively good mood.

So for good time's sake I flip to the page where Thor's mighty hammer awaits.

"Mew mew!"

(Yay! Now back to work, slave.)

Bitch.

(Why thank you.)

I flip the page and flip my subconscious the finger.

And… Click.

All swimming objects slid into place.

All the pieces to the puzzle come into co existence.

I know now who the armor belongs to. It's this… Loki guy?

(That sounds like a name for an Asian cat.)

Loki? My eyes scan the rest of the title. '_Loki: God of Mischief_.'

Well that doesn't sound too good.

(Eh, not my problem.)

(How the hell do you even pronounce his name?)

"Lock-y, lockeee, La-ockwey, el-okey, low key?" That last one sounds like it.

"Lowe keye. Hm. Low key. That's not so bad. God of Mischief." I look over to the golden armor, lying in wait for it's mischievous master. And looking by those long thigh plates-

"The _tall_ God of Mischief." Actually, comparing those things to my height…

"The _crazy ridiculous_ tall God of Mischief." I wonder if he's as tall as Thor.

"Well, anyway, I think it's time for me to go now. See ya later." I fold the corner on the section about this Loki person and move to stand; once up I try to stretch my back a little so I can feel less disjointed and aching like I do now. I walk to the metal sheet of a door and grab the handle, trying to compose something nice and simple to say to Coulson.

'_Hey Coul, what's up? Yep, I'm doing fine. I know who the God guy is now, without Jane's help by the way. Oh, it's this Loki guy. Never heard of him? Oh, well, he's the God of Mischief or something. Yeah, so he might be a little trouble. Probably not too bad though. Can I have a ride back to base? Sweet, thanks. And take the day off? Well I couldn't. Really? Well, if you insist.'_

And then I get a five thousand dollar raise.

And my steamy sexy man finally arrives on a unicorn with an army of puppies following.

(Ugh, it's still the morning and already I need a nap.)

I look through a couple of the other books that I grabbed, looking up the God of Mischief in each one, until I feel like I have enough information to satisfy Coulson. I pull my phone and go through my contacts till I find him.

(He's in my phone as 'Asshat Angsty Agent of Angst'.)

(Don't ask me why… I'm pretty sure I was drunk…)

Stabbing my thumb down on dial, I prepare myself to be bombarded with questions.

"_Darcy, have you identified the God_?"

(AND TO THINK I FELT BAD FOR CALLING YOU ASSHAT IN MY PHONE.)

"A-yup."

(Man, it's like people don't even say 'hi' anymore.)

"_And_…?"

(Is this the treatment I get for forgetting to grab you some coffee?)

"The God who the armor belongs to is Loki; God of Mischief."

"_Does this seem like a good God or a bad God_?"

"Well, yes and no…"

"_Explain_."

"Well, more than two hundred years ago Christians went back and kind of re-wrote all of the original Nordic Stories, including the Gods. In the original texts; Loki is said to simply be a trickster, playing pranks, deceiving people, cheating in card games, nothing too serious. They generally said he's just a guy who acts first and thinks later and most of the Gods don't trust him because that's what he's known for. He's just doing what's fun for him. But in the revised Christian texts they pretty much… Turned him into the Nordic version of the devil… Apparently he's seen as the cause of everything that's gone wrong… Then again he kind of was before, but now it's in a more extreme way. But then again these old school Christian's were fanatics about good v.s. evil. It's kind of hard to understand this guy…"

"_Okay_…"

"That's… all I got."

"_I'll have a van driven out there to pick you up. Is Jane with you_?"

"No, she, uhhh, went to go do her own thing…"

"_Hm. Well, is that all_?"

"Yea…"

"_Good bye then_."

(I feel unloved. And this is awkward.)

"Yea. 'Bye." Aaaaaaand he's already hung up.

(I want a hug now.)

I grab the cold handle of the door and turn one last time towards the armor.

"Goodbye Loki. See ya next time." And with that I take my leave. But before that door can close I swear I heard someone's voice saying:

'_See you soon_.'


	6. Closer

**Sorry it took so long for me to update! Yea, I know I said every Thursday I would submit a chapter; but let's just think of Thursday as a guide line, not quite a rule. Man, I really need to make a list of people to thank, in fact I'll probably start the next chapter with that, because I really want to thank you guys for all the encouragement you've all given me; if it weren't for you guys I'm not sure I would have made it this far, so thank you for all you've done, this chapter is dedicated to you guys so I hope you love it just as much as I loved writing it. **

**(For those not as savy in the comic book world; heres a guide for the characters briefly mentioned; Clint Barton is Hawkeye, Steve Rodgers is Captain America, Bruce Banner is the Hulk, Peter Parker is Spiderman, Tony Stark is Ironman, Logan is Wolverine, and Wade Wilson is DeadPool. I don't mean to insult anyone, it's just I don't know to reply to any of my reviews if anyone left me a message about who's who.)**

**P.S. brownie points to anyone who can guess who this 'Nick' is.**

**Love you all, hope you enjoy**

**~D.o.t.B.**

I wake up from a night of sleepless slumber.

(Wait… that doesn't make sense…)

Forget that, I'm too sleepy right now.

(My brain is doing that worm dance move 'people' did back in the day.)

(Those 'people' were secretly robots.)

How would a robot move around that freely?

(They were _jelly_ robots.)

…?

I need more sleep.

Man, sleep would be so awesome right now, especially since I couldn't fall asleep last night 'cuz I kept thinking I'd hear that voice again, the unexplained one I heard down in the dungeon.

Yea… That was creepy.

(I _may_ or _may not_ have almost shit myself silly.)

(But that's beside the point.)

Point is; I heard a guy's voice coming from a place where no one was around.

Which is why I haven't really told anyone about it.

(You _could_ just be becoming schizophrenic.)

(_OUCH THAT'S A WORD TOO BIG TO THINK THIS MORNING_.)

I mean, I don't think I'm becoming schizophrenic.

(When do people ever think they're becoming schizophrenic?)

Um, maybe the schizophrenics.

… Damn my smartass brain…

(Maybe I'm hearing voices because of stress…?)

Well, I guess that's possible, except I'm the least stressed person at S.H.I.E.L.D.

(Need to stop thinking.)

Sleep.

Hey… wait.

I'm _friends_… _with my boss_…

(_DING_!)

(TEN POINTS FOR GRIFFINDOOR!)

Its times like these where I'm really happy I have Jane on speed dial.

I'm also really happy that Jane's my friend.

And that she's my boss.

And that she just exists in general.

"_Hello? Darcy_?"

"Jane… Jane… Jane… Jane hey it's Darcy… Jaaaaaaaaaane."

"_Um, yea Darcy_?"

"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE… You're name… is so fun… JAAAAAAAAAAA-."

(DAMMIT WOMAN FOCUS; OR ELSE YOU WILL NEVER GET WHAT YOU WANT.)

"_Um, thanks_?"

"Hey, you know what's even funer Jane?-"

"_Funer isn't a word Darcy-_."

"Giving Darcy… A day off…"

"_Darcy; I told you that you could have today off. Don't you remember_?"

So _that's_ where I got the idea…

But I don't have a chance to properly thank Jane as I give a 'silent' sleepy scream before falling asleep face first into a pillow while my ear hits the off button on my phone.

_Thank you Jane_.

(_Heyyyyyyy. It's Saturday_.)

…

I wake up disoriented with a phone imprinted onto the side of my face.

I peel the phone away too look at the time.

(.)

DUDE IT'S THREE THIRTY IN THE AFTERNOON.

(I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE FOR ME TO SLEEP IN THIS LATE.)

Wow. Personal record officially _beat_.

Nuegh, I need to get ready and eat sum _foooooooood_.

(I could go to the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria so I wouldn't have to make anything…)

(But the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria doesn't approve of people wearing their pajamas…)

(Which means I'd have to change.)

Forget it, I'm eating home food.

Bringing all my comfy blankets with me I clumsily strut into the kitchen and make myself an old fashioned bowl of one of my favorite cereals, lucky charms.

(_They're magically delicious_!)

(… Hopefully not marijuana magical though… I mean they feed this stuff to kids…)

Well, it's Saturday now; and I've got five hours to waste till I begin my future as an asspiring alcoholic with suicidal/homicidal tendencies.

(I'm also considering getting forty lizards.)

But, until then… T.V. time.

…

Man… I've been crying a lot lately.

It's kind of embarrassing… and pathetic.

But that doesn't matter because it's eight o'clock now. Whoot.

And why couldn't I sleep last night?

I mean I was _really_ tired; I don't think I have a history of insomnia or anything.

(Or maybe that's just what my alternate personality wants me to think.)

(I hope my alternate personality doesn't know karate. Or else they will kick my ass.)

WAIT; I DON'T HAVE AN ALTERNATE PERSONALITY.

WAIT; MAYBE I DO. I DUNNO ANYMORE. Yea, no I don't.

Okay, ummm… There was a person, or something, in my room, last night.

And I couldn't sleep… Because I was scared.

Truly scared. The wrong time when it's far too late at night is when you feel this, when you know just how helpless you are yet you can't manage to accept your fate. And what is your fate? You can't control it if the darkness that surrounds you, a living breathing thinking body could be hidden anywhere; and they could easily cause you harm.

But what made last night worse than any other time I've felt like that; is that they, he she or it, was just _watching me_. They had a chance to hurt me but instead resided to simply staring. I feel it in my gut that just because they didn't hurt me then, it wasn't out of 'the goodness of their heart'; no, it was because they couldn't hurt me yet.

(I hate this.)

(Now I need a drink more than ever.

All I'm wearing is my usual bar attire; ripped at the knee black skinny jeans, cheap knock off brand ugg boots, a dark seductive purple mid sleeve shirt, and an awesome navy blue jean jacket to cover it all up in case an old creeper comes along. Then of course there's the eye lined eyes and the color covered lips in gloss.

(I feel so desperate.)

(But I am desperate, aren't I?)

The walk from my locked away house to the dingy bar isn't that far, but tonight it takes me little more than thirty minutes with my short strides.

I'm happy that I brought my iPod, or else the walk there would have felt longer.

But soon my iPod's wrapped up and placed into my jacket pocket next to my pepper spray, and I'm walking to my tell tale seat at the bar, bartender coming over, ready for my order;

"One coke and rum please."

…

I can't stop thinking about that person in the shadows.

Just thinking about the memory makes the fear I felt uncoil from deep inside me. With shaking hands I quickly down the rest of my drink, and even faster still I order a replacement for my now empty glass.

Okay, I came here for a little fun; so let's get my mind away from the thought of someone well hidden in the black empty spaces of my room.

(That did _not_ help.)

I take a huge swig from my nearly filled glass.

Let's… make a list.

Of what?

(Of reason I don't have a boyfriend yet?)

No, no that's too much of a Debbie downer. Being a Debbie downer is Coulson's job. Not mine.

(Umm… Of people I would maybe date?)

Yep, that sounds good; because I would maybe-date a lot of people.

…

I think I took the whole list thing a little too seriously. 'Cuz I've written, re-written, and finalized that list of people I'd maybe-date, to a nice, clean copy written in a dying pen on the back of a slightly used napkin. By now I've gone through four glasses of coke and rum's.

(Mom would be so proud.)

I leave my stuff, trusting the owner to stop any evil do-ers from taking anything, and lead my faltering legs towards the bathroom to freshen up a bit.

(And to slap myself.)

('Cuz you just can't do that in public.)

This bathroom isn't anything special; it has the obvious four walls, plastic tile floor, cheap mirrors, questionably clean stalls, and way too bright lights.

But it's the perfect place for me to stop a moment and think.

I don't know why this is happening; I don't understand this sick feeling that's grabbing fist full upon fist full of my stomach walls and squeezing it in its clenched fists. But I do know that I want it gone, and I want it gone now, even if it means it will just come back later. There is no way in hell that I am about going to shit bricks because I'm paranoid and thought someone was watching me last night. I refuse to have a mental breakdown in some stupid bar in the middle of nowhere. I am better than that. I have self control. I am not a crazy person.

(_Most the time_.)

I will remain calm, have a relatively good time before I go home, grab that last piece of chocolate cake I saved from that Fury guy's birthday and a nice cup of milk, and snuggle up to watch one of my favorite movies. I'll just get one more drink before I leave.

Cold water splashes my face washing away caution as I lean above the sink, not caring if it messes up what little make up I bothered to put on. I slap my face a little to help ignore the fact that my spine feels like it's being used as a xylophone and sing some random tunes to scare away my nervousness before I go back out there.

Exiting quickly I move towards my seat, eyes looking for my stuff… but someone's there, sitting next to my seat, blocking my line of sight.

Damn. I wish I'd brought my jacket… that way I'd at least have my pepper spray.

Hell, it's probably just some pervert.

I'll just swoop in, grab my stuff, and run out.

(_BUT WHAT ABOUT MY LAST DRINK_?)

_FFFFFFFF_. It's gunna have to wait till next week.

I to shuffle with confidence and pile all my stuff up in my arms, when I realize that whoever this creep is, they're holding my list of maybe-dates; the one I've been working on for way to long.

(The one I secretly take pride in, and will use as notes on my boyfriend search.)

"Um, sorry, mister, but that's-."

_Oh_.

"… mine…"

_Personified orgasms don't look this good_.

There, perched next to my seat, is perfection.

Every part of his exposed skin that peaks through a black button up shirt and dark formal pants has been hand carved and chiseled undoubtedly by the most skilled artist ever to dream such a being into existence. He is one of those ancient Greek sculptures come to life; ivory skin so amazing how couldn't it have once been set in stone? Above his angled slate nose his studious eyes watch me, a question hidden in the swarming green depths; with one painted eye brow cocked at the ready, his angel kissed lips open, lungs and chest swelling about to speak.

"Oh no, no. I'm sorry. Does this belong to you?" _His voice is like the silk sheets I'd love to have sex on_. I didn't catch the beginning of that; it's his fault. He is a distraction.

(A distraction that I don't mind, and wouldn't want to get rid of.)

"Um, uh… Yea, I-I mean- yes. Yes, that is currently under ownership o-of me…?" I'd like to be under ownership of you; I'd also like to be under you too.

"Well, then I apologize for taking it. I just thought I'd return the favor. It's not like me to take things that do not belong to me. Here you go." He politely places the list on my stack of stuff that piled in my arms; his milk white spider hands are graceful and move as though moved by an air current.

Wow. I didn't know it was possible for someone to be so damn sexy when giving me pieces of written on napkin. I need to write on napkins more often.

Wait; 'milk white _spider_ hands'? I hate spiders.

(_But he's really hot_.)

I love spiders.

"Um, uh, thanks." I need to expand vocabulary beyond 'um' and 'uh'.

"You seem at unease. Would you like a drink?"

"Sure. Thanks." I smile at him, trying to form a thought not evolved around him.

(WHICH IS NOT MENTALLY POSSIBLE; IT'S NOT EVEN PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE.)

I can't take my eyes off him; especially since he's smiling back at me. This is embarrassing.

"Hi, I'm," _willing to fulfill whatever sick fetish you have_ "Darcy."

"Hello Darcy." If I wasn't smiling already out of pure embarrassment and infatuation I would've been smiling now because of the radiation his thousand watt smile is giving me.

God, that doesn't even make sense.

(_OHHH I DO NOT CARE_.)

Suddenly his hand seemed to move towards mine as he offered in simple greeting.

OH GOD I GET TO TOUCH THAT? OKAY, THAT'S IT. REASON TO LIVE.

Of course I take his hand and try not to be awkward about it, even though that's almost impossible for me at this point.

Man. His hands are _nice_.

"Darcy, would you like a glass of wine?" That doesn't sound like a good idea…

"Yea, sure. Why not?" I can't take my wine very well… Oh well.

He gives me a small, closed mouth smile; like he can sense my fog of nervousness about the wine and thinks it's funny.

(My poker face skills always disappear around hot guys. It's not fair.)

"So, what was that list of, exactly?" His eyes sway to my list that lies on top of my stuff; light curiosity in his tone, but I can tell he's more than curious about it.

Kinda weird how interested he is…

Whatever. I don't want to over analyze or else I'll get all paranoid again.

"Um." I grab the list and look over it.

I really don't want to tell him…

"It's, uh." Honesty never killed anyone…

"It's a list… Of men I would consider dating."

(CRAIGS LIST KILLER WHERE ARE YOU?)

A chance a glance at him, only to see a completely surprised expression crafted to his features; the raised eye brows, widened eyes, and slightly parted mouth.

"Oh..?" I put it on the counter, using my sheer force of will to make it catch on fire.

It doesn't…

"Yea."

"Why would you create such a list?"

"I'm lonely."

(FUCK. FUCH SHIT FUCK. COULD I HAVE SOUNDED MORE DESPERATE?)

Don't look at him.

_Nuegh_.

So of course I look at him.

(It's hard not to. Okay? Okay.)

He still has that look of surprise, but it's beginning to fade to something else. His eye brows have settled, mouth closed and pursed in mid-thought, his eyes; a lack luster green study me and tick up and down my face. He looks… oddly sympathetic.

His eyes leave me and go back to the list that lies between us, looking for a distraction.

"Why did you choose them?"

(Why do you have to keep bringing this up? If you weren't so sexy I would leave.)

"Well…" He tilts the list towards me and leans forward as he scoots his bar stool closer to mine; closing a lot of the distance between us. Once he's situated in a way he sees fit he leans back to look at me, question at the ready.

"Why did you skip number one?"

"'Cuz I havn't really meet number one yet…" He accepts that answer and purses his lips, waiting for me to explain the rest of it to him. Of course I will avoid talking about the list like it is the plague; but he's not one to let things lie.

"Who is this man listed at number two?"

"That's Clint Barton." When I don't keep talking about it he looks at me mildly irritated, with a 'I have no time for games' look in his expression.

(YOU ARE SO FUCKING LUCKY YOU'RE SEXY.)

"Clint is pretty hot, easily accessible, and single. Thus, number two." He seemed satisfied with that answer, but I tell he wanted me to keep going. Ugh.

"And number three?" He looked at me again, urging me to continue; but this only made me realized how close our faces actually are.

DARCY CONCENTRATE.

"Number three is Steve Rodgers. He's a really nice guy; but right now he's mourning the death of his friends. It's really tough on him. I feel really bad for him… Bad things shouldn't happen to good people like him." With a sigh I keep going.

"At number four we have Bruce Banner. He's a cute, geeky little scientist. Only problem is that he has some _major_ anger management issues. And I think he might have a girlfriend, I don't really know.

"Then there's Peter Parker for number five… I've never actually met the guy; but there's this musical that's kinda about him and I really like the music from it… Actually, I think he might be married. Or something.

"And then there's Tony Stark at number six. I really just put him there because I had to. I don't think I'd ever really _want_ to be in a relationship with this guy… But he Tony Stark; so of course he's on the list. He has a girlfriend too, but they're on and off.

"Number seven is Logan What's-his-face. I don't even know his last name. He's really grumpy all the time; and I feel like if I did somehow magically become his girlfriend, I'd get killed. But he looks like Hugh Jackman. So…" I look at who's next on the list.

_Ugh_. Not him.

I stop to massage my temples before continuing reading aloud my stupid, _stupid_ list.

"Number eight is _Wade Wilson_. He's an ex-boyfriend. I put him there because I couldn't come up with anymore people. And Wade… can be funny.

"And then I skipped number nine."

"Who's this 'Phil Coulson' listed as number ten?"

"Eh. He doesn't really count. Love him and all; but he's just there to take up space." All I get is a quirked eye brow and an amused smile.

"What? I like it when things come in multiples of five." I say in my defense.

"You skipped numbers one and nine."

"And you pay too much attention."

"What? I like things to have a certain order." Sneaky little…

"Well, do _you_ have any suggestions for one and nine?"

(HEE I THINK THAT COUNTS AS FLIRTING.)

He gives a small, thoughtful 'hm', accepting the challenge I gave him. Briefly lost in a whirl of thought, he leans back and strokes a kind finger back and forth along the line of his lips. After a few seconds the gracefully skeletal creeps along his forehead. Before suddenly diving to push back the ink black hair that drips from the broad board of a hairline to claw at its singular divots in a gesture of a wise conclusion made.

(_Hot damn_.)

"Well, who would you put at number nine?" I'm stuck staring again.

"Uhhhhh… I dunno." I sound _so_ civilized. Hell, I might as well slam my head into the counter.

"Come now, there must be _someone_." He's being an amused smug little asshole; and I feel like he knows something I don't. Like he read my mind before I even thought anything.

He still has such a pretty face. Ugh. Let's get this over with.

Suddenly, I grab the napkin and the pen I used, and scribble the name I'd been thinking of.

The stranger immediately grabs the napkin once I'm done writing. I fold my arms over my chest and give a huff of small resentment in the fact that he's victorious.

He gives small, genuine laugh; yet confusion clouds his expression

"Who is this 'Nick'?" He's watching me carefully; as if my face will tell him more than my mouth will.

"We had a fling a long time ago. Happy?" A trouble making thought tumbles in circles in the emerald swamps of his eyes, a hellion's smile ignites on his face as oil swims between the gears, turning them to turn and alight with an epiphany.

"Not quite." I don't know if I like this loose cannon side of him.

"May I?" He gestures to the good as dead pen.

"Sure." He grabs the pen, having been given permission. But I feel like my answer doesn't matter, he would have taken it anyway. He's moving forward, now even closer to me; his chest brushes against my side, leaning against me as he writes down on my list. Distracted from what he's writing I'm guilty of watching him; interest piqued by this mischievous side of him.

Everything becomes clearer, for a second.

"What were you talking about, earlier? What favor were you trying to repay?"

He's done writing, the pen is laid to rest, but he remains fixed in his spot. His frigid breath comes in slow billows from his lungs; the hand he didn't use to write comes and rests on my chair and he's barely inches from my face, which he is watching with such intensity. Soft features grazing against my hair as he whispers, his breath in the wind, with all seriousness:

"_Darcy_, _dear_, _I do believe you have something that belongs to me_."

I grab at the glass of wine intended for me that I never noticed; taking a giant gulp I attempt ignoring him, which, obviously, doesn't work as well as I wanted it to. Doesn't help that I can hear the soft chuckle he leaves in my ear as he removes the hand he had behind me.

His whisper brings recognition.

His very presence breeds familiarity.

I sit the glass down sharply, choking back on the wine. He pats my back to help me, but I freeze at his touch. I lean forward and grab the list as he massages small circles in my back.

"_Remember me_?"

This man wrote a single name one the empty space next to number one, his name.

_Loki_.


	7. Want

**HEY GUYS! I UPDATED! and then there was much rejoycing, and D.o.t.B. actually went to sleep at kinda-sorta 'decent' hour (ha ha, no).**

**THANK YOU'S: ****(this is for those who have left more than two comments or favorited or added me as favorite author; I STILL LOVE YOU ALL WANT TO GIVE YOU MULTIPLES OF LOKI)**

**Chatnoir1- You gave me my first comment and have kept encouraging me along the way with detailed comments of what you like of mine; so thank you, they really help me grow, you might have no idea of how happy they make me, but I hope that in some way you do.**

**Dancing Pinky Flower- From an interesting name to an interesting reviewer, you let your own spark of quirky wit show in your comments, I love hearing what you have to say in whatever way you say it.**

**Jetsir- Your kind words make me happy and comfort me about certain things I wasn't sure about; like Loki's armor. The simplest things make me sigh in relief, so thank you for the powerful yet little things, and CONGRADULATIONS TO BEING THE BROWNIE POINTS WINNER! Good to know I'm not the only one who saw that movie (although it does make me feel like a stalker since I only saw it for Kat Dennings...).**

**Megumisakura- (I feel like theres an interesting story behind that name) anyway, your small words of encouragement are kept short and sweet but are just as apprieciated hun.**

**Voupohl- Your sincer sounding words can make my jaw drop, sounding almost too good to be true. But thank you, I'm amazed by what you think of my writing, it really keeps me going.**

**- (Goodness, thats a bit of a mouthfull) anyway, it's good to hear that you really like this; and it's a kind reminder that people do like this style that I've chosen for Darcy, so thank you.**

**Rockubyebaby, Alex Believe, Dancing Pinky Flower, Chatnoir1, and Child of Asgaurd; Thank you for the favorites, truly from the bottom of the ocean, thank you beautifuls.**

**AlleatoryMadness- (Whoa, awesome name!) IT WAS LITTERLY KILLING ME TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO REPLY TO YOUR COMMENT. So, 'Fury' is reffering to 'Nick Fury', so hopefully you know who he is (he's the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the one with the eye patch who keeps showing up in the credits).**

**And last but not least, thank you Let's Start Rumors; you're a sweet and kind daughter/ex-wife/pet dinosaur (difference?) and thank you for adding me as your favorite author. Guys, check out her page, she's got some Loki/Darcy love fic herself which is pretty damn good. **

**BROWNIE or cookie (Claire!) WINNER JETSIR; single handedly (if your hands are in a relationship or have a romantic partner, my apologies) found the identity of 'Nick'. I tricked you guys a bit; the 'Nick' mentioned earlier, who's brithday was last week, is Nick Fury. The 'Nick' on Darcy's list is the Nick from the movie 'Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist' (see, I'm sneaky there).**

**Anywho; could this note get anylonger?**

**Love you guys, and with all of your awesomeness combined and then turned into individual rainbows and then combined again, Jane would have her end of the Bifrost (it's a compliement; I swear!).**

**~D.o.t.B.**

"_I think I need some air_."

I practically run out that door and outside the bar, until I can't keep it inside anymore. He's beside me as I up chuck all four glasses of coke and rum and large sips of wine as they splatter; a wet slap against the pavement, a sharp contrast to the once silent night. I stay still for a couple seconds more; hands on my knees for support as I continue to choke back anything else that wanted to come up. This man, Loki, stays on guard behind me.

"Sorry, I only throw up when I'm nervous or scared… I'm not diseased or anything."

"Well, that's always a good thing." I try to look at him from my upside down view; he's cool and collected at his spot leaning against the bar entrance wall, watching me with a detached boredom in his eyes.

Ugh. Even upside down and looking bored he's hot…

(Right now is definitely not the time to be thinking that.)

And yet I am anyway.

I see him approach me but it doesn't register that he's next to me until he grabs me by the forearm and pulls me up, once I'm up a grimace trails his back in a shudder. Silently and without explanation he pulls a napkin from the bar out of his pocket and with a hand locked onto my jaw he cleans up left over pieces of who-the-hell-knows-what stuck on my lips.

(I must be so sexy right now…)

"Your silence is no way to thank me."

"Um, thanks. But it's kind of your fault in the first place…" He pauses, then drops the used napkin to the ground once all the _bleh_ is gone from my face. But his pale, trim skeleton fingers remained fixated on my jaw, forcing me to face him; my neck bent at such an awkward point, but over the nervous beat of a certain muscle in my chest I can ignore it.

(Heart, shut up, stop being so crazy; he's going to _hear you _and then he's _going to rip you out_.)

Not helping…

"And how would it be my fault that your stomach emptied its contents on the street?" His dark jade green eyes widen slightly as flecks of understanding illuminate in the street light. He leans in closer, watching me with a crisp smugness fresh on his face, eyes studying as they tic back and forth from the twin holes of his skull.

_Not _helping...

"Unless you're suggesting that I make you nervous," his face darkening, yet that smug look stayed in place, "Or scared."

THAT'S SO NOT THE POINT.

(But it's both…)

"Why me?" All former smug attitude is gone and he's become serious again.

"Because you might be a crucial key in order for me to get what I want."

Okay…?

I'm a little confused here; has he mistaken me for Jane? 'Cuz I don't see how I can help him.

"And what do you want?" He lets go of my jaw and backs off.

"That answer is unclear." Self disdain and worry are etched in his voice, he sighs, making me almost feel sorry for the guy.

_Almost_.

Actually, a little more than 'almost'.

(I blame his scrumpdillyumpchious body. I just want to go 'Om nom nom' all over him.)

NOT THE TIME DARCY.

(I bet his sweat tastes like caramel apples.)

"Regardless, I am coming with you."

"What?"

"Did you not hear me?"

"No no no, I heard you. I'm just pretty sure I don't know what you mean."

"I am coming with you."

"And I am going where…?"

"To your place of residence."

(…)

"Sooooooo… I'm taking _you home_, with _me_…?"

"Yes."

(MUST. RESIST. URGE TO. FIST PUMP.)

(_NUEGH_.)

"Oh… okay." I turn to walk to my apartment when he suddenly grabs my forearm, a tight clench that makes me turn to see if anything's wrong.

"What's up?" Question clearly written on my face.

"Nothing." His voice is stern and demands no more questions.

Man, this guy is all kinds of weird.

"Okay…?" I turn around and keep walking, with him as an anchor to keep me from running.

Wait a second…

"Uh, do you know… where I live?"

"Yes."

WHAT? NO BUENO POR FA WHORE. I DON'T WANT HIM TO HAVE THIS INFORMATION WITHOUT MY PERMISSION OR AT LEAST, MY ASSUMPTION.

I turn to look at him fully.

"Dude, that's not okay."

"It's irrelevant information." He doesn't look at me.

Great. I pretty much have a god, stalking me. _Fucking_ great.

(Never mind that he's possibly the sexiest man to enter Earth's atmosphere.)

That's just 'irrelevant information' right now.

The walk is long, and we don't talk to each other; the silence hanging above like a dark cloud.

But we're at my apartment now.

_Fuck_.

I don't know what to do from here. Does he?

Does he have some evil plan rolled up his sleeve?

"So, Loki, right?" No acknowledgement as he looks at my book case from his seat at the cute little island in my generic kitchen setting.

"Do you want anything to drink?"

"No."

"_Well_, what do you want?" I'm really sick of his sudden '_meh I'm bored_' attitude; not to mention just him in general is kind of pissing me off.

"Temper, temper Darcy. No need for useless anger." His eyes are focused on me now.

"I can't just wait around until you _tell me something_. Listen, I'm tired, and I've got work tomorrow; so sorry if I'm impatient or _temperamental_, but I _need_ to get to bed."

He just sits there and watches; elbow resting on the counter, holding his head in his hand, amused smile fixed in place, mirth mixed in his air.

"You humans are so typical."

"Fuck off." A calloused laugh escapes him as I try and leave him there, in turn trying to get him to leave, as make my way to the door to open it up for him.

"Stop faking your anger in an attempt to get me to leave; for I'll tell you now that I won't be going so easily. In fact, as of yet I see no reason to."

"What do you want?"

"What do _you_ want?"

"For you to leave."

"And what then; what will you want then?"

"Sleep." His laugh is cutting and mean.

"And tomorrow morning you'll just want _more_ sleep."

"It was _you_… Wasn't it? The shadow in my room last night…"

"_Yes_, _yes_, and _yes_ again. _Congratulations_, you've won the _big prize_, haven't _you_? You've got it all _figured_ out. _Next_ you'll be asking me if I was _the voice_ in the holding chamber of _m_y armor." The look on my face keeps him going.

"And _yes_, I was." A smug, rampant smile is carved into his handsome features.

I feel the back of the door brushing against my back; I didn't even know, didn't even realize, that I'd been backing away from him all this time

"_Stop_."

"I _did_ stop, _Darcy_. But you just have _so many_ questions." I move away from my cornered space in front of the door, trying not to let myself get vulnerable like that again; next time he might take advantage of it. He seems to back away from himself, where his thoughts were going; but his eyes have found a target and have stayed fixed on it ever since, me. Just the fact that he's been watching practically nonstop is unnerving, but that he's made no move to hide it or act innocent about it makes me scared. Make me feel like if I take my eyes off of him for one second, he'll make his move against me.

I'm standing in front of wooden dresser with a mirror placed above it when he starts walking towards me with arms open, as if to show that he's not dangerous; all signs of whatever insanity he had before is gone, for now.

"But in a way, I have gotten what I wanted."

I have to ask it, he set it up so that I would have to ask it.

"And what is that, _Loki_?"

"A reaction out of you; I simply wanted to see where you would go if I did nothing."

"And?"

"Well it was very interesting."

"_Leave_." I point to the door and try not to yawn.

"Why were you at the bar?"

(_Of cou_rse he ignores my request.)

"I'm _not_ answering that." Realization hits him.

"_For the same reason you created that list_." He whispers it but his every word is painfully clear to my ears.

(He's right.)

(But I still don't want to hear it.)

"You're lonely. Aren't you?" Him knowing this, the God of Mischief knowing this, it's just another slap in the face. I try to stare at him unwavering as he takes careful steps closer to me, but after a while I have to look away and admit that he's right. I am pathetic, desperate, and _very_ alone.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck shit.

"If you tell me what you want, and if it's not too crazy, I might be able to get it for you." He has a strange defiantly sympathetic streak in his bright eyes, but I don't want his sympathy, I don't want his pity; I'm stronger than that. At least that what I try and tell myself.

"What do you think I want?" Curiosity ignites the light yellow in his eyes, and I realize he's only a couple feet from me.

"… My _soul_…?" I can't hide the fear in my tone.

"Your soul would be an interesting thing to see, but I don't usually deal with souls. I believe that's Hel's job, not mine; and I'd hate to anger her further by taking even a sliver of her responsibility. You'd be surprised, as she doesn't like me very much. If anything, I remember her saying that she wanted _my_ soul." His voice is playful, leaning on a border to comfort me.

(_Gee_, I can't imagine anyone _not liking_ this _asshole_.)

_Darcy_, be nice; this guy could probably kill you in the blink of an eye.

"No," his strides lengthen as he stalks closer, closing more of the distance between us, "It doesn't matter what I want; all that matters, is what _you want_."

Gracefully his abrupt hands curl around my shoulders, turning me slowly to face the mirror; pressing his body against me, mocking a backwards embrace.

This is so messed up, _so fucked up_, that it shouldn't feel nice. I shouldn't be enjoying his touch, I shouldn't be having to remind myself to keep breathing, I shouldn't be feeling these butterflies in my stomach, I shouldn't be feeling these warm goose bumps prickling my skin, and I most definitely _should not_ be liking how close his body is.

But I do…

(MOTHER FUCKER.)

(SICK MOTHER FUCKER.)

(A POX UPON HIM FOR BEING SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL.)

And making me feel like this when I might wake up dead tomorrow.

(Ughhh… That doesn't even make sense.)

Then again: what does?

"What makes you think that you know what I want?" I can't fight the cracks splintered in my voice, cracks caused by being close to someone I can't even think about wanting.

_But I do_…

"What lone struck woman does not want a companion," One of his hands move from my shoulder as bitten fingers lightly caress a trail along my collarbone. The other hand pulling back my unruly brown hair as he lowers his mouth to my ear as a breath of rolling air waves against me; his other hand dipping lower to trace half circles dangling in a chandelier underneath the design of bones along my collar. Our eyes collide through the mirror, a private smile printed as he whispers, "_Or a lover_…?"

(FUCK.)

_I have to resist_.

Easier said than done.

"So, you can give me anything I want."

"I _will_ give you anything you want."

FUCKING _FOCUS_ DARCY.

I turn around to face him, avoiding his heart piercing eyes by straightening the collar of his black button up suit shirt; once done I hold on to the fabric of his shirt like it's my only life line.

"Well, then I think… That I know… What I want." The words sloppily tumble from my mouth, my expression quirky and sassy, and his eye brows rise as his gaze intensifies.

"Darcy, do tell."

"It really breaks my heart to say this; but I want a promise from you that of those names mentioned in my list, none of their death's will be caused by you or in any way directed by you," _Okay_, _that's most of the Avengers_, "But I also want you to promise that you will not cause the deaths of Nick Fury, Natasha Romanoff, Pepper Potts, Betty Ross, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, Sif, Erik Selvig, and Jane Foster." _That should cover it_, any sight of slight happiness has been stripped away from his face, "_But_; this is all in exchange for me being _your_ eternal servant." His face turns into surprise in its form before a smile coils into place.

(Sacrifice the few for the sake of the many…)

"Is it a deal?" I offer my hand.

"It's a deal." He grasps it securely.

In a swift up and down movement I may have practically sold my freedom.

_Something tells me that I'm going to regret this in the morning_…


	8. Disregard Me

**I LIVE! so heres a chapter ;D**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROOKE! this is my present to you my lovely!**

**(is too effing tired righ noaw to write actual note...)**

**~D.o.t.B.**

"Um…" Okay, we've been stuck like this; hands continuously shaking up and down and up and down nonstop. Both of us unwilling to be the one to break it, the one to admit defeat. Seriously though, it's been so long that his open bragging smile and the shining self pride in his eyes has faded to a blank line of blood cracked lips and dead pan forest eyes.

And he's doing that weird staring thing again.

I'm starting to think that that's just what he does; that staring what not.

Some people stutter, some people slouch, some people unconsciously leave their mouth wide open when they're bored; this guy stares. It's okay. I'll deal with it.

Guess I'm gunna have to since I'm his 'servant' now, aren't I?

"You're not going to let go anytime soon, are you?"

"No." His hands are soft, sculpted with sincerity; yet slightly worn down from practiced use.

You can tell a lot from a person's hands.

His are well scrubbed, after years of it being expected of him; years, if not a life time, of pressure to stay civilized and well mannered. Trained not to act like commoners; always to be clean, with your head forward, your back straight, and your voice quiet, thoughts kept chained and never to be spoken unless they were kind.

He was royalty, wasn't he?

But he had done something to make his hands calloused and scratched from rough use, which was not something one would suspect that a prince like him would have. Which meant he'd done something that wasn't expected of him. But then again, Thor had been a prince and he was a warrior, a fighter; what could Loki have done that wasn't expected of him when compared to the rampaging Thor?

He did something bad.

I don't know what it is, but I think Loki did it on purpose.

I pull away from the hand shake and admit defeat, letting him win a pointless battle.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm tired. I'll get the couch set up for you to sleep on." I turn to leave and walk to my room to grab some spare blankets and pillows for the God of Mischief. Once I've got two blankets and some pillows I turn to head towards the door; suddenly noticing Loki leaning against the doorway surveying my room, seeing if it suits him before looking back to me with a brief nod of sleepy appreciation.

"Thank you Darcy, this will certainly do." And with that brief acknowledgement he stalks to _my bed_ and lays down in it, covering himself with _my_ blankets and laying his head on _my_ pillows. Leaving me pissed and confused standing dumbstruck as he starts snoring.

(BITCH PLZ.)

"_Aw hell no_. There's no way in hell you fell asleep that fast. Wake up." I stomp over, hands on my hips, ready to rip him from my bed.

"Loki." I clap my hands in his face.

"Loki wake up." I slap my hand slowly on his face.

(HUR DUR IM TOUCHIN HIS FACE.)

(Never washing this hand again.)

But he's still not waking up.

(_Okay_, so maybe he did fall asleep that fast.)

(MOTHER FUCKER.)

Ugh… This means I get to sleep on the couch tonight…

Great… Just _great_…

I grab my pajamas and put them on my pile of stuff and with an anger fueled pace I stumble around into my living room, strip and get into my pjs, and get my bed for tonight set up, mumbling insults to Loki all the way.

"Fucking fuck nut of fucked fucking fucker… of fuckdom."

(Dude I need sleep _now_.)

I huff and roll over to my side, close my eyes, and try not to think of _him_.

_Ugh, I can't believe that I practically sold my fucking soul_.

(Hey, look on the Brightside Darcy; you finally got a guy to sleep in your bed.)

(Too bad I'm not sharing it with him though.)

…That would've been nice…

(_Very_, _very_ nice.)

And those were my last thoughts as my eyes closed until I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock going off somewhere far, far away.

"DARCY.

DARCY.

DARCY."

"Fmnnoooo I dun wanna get uppppp… I dun wunna Jhane. I slep now… I slep gud. Yea? Yea."

"DARCY COME HERE."

"Fffffffffneww."

"DARCY COME HERE RIGHT NOW."

"I DUN WANNA."

"_DARCY_."

"_FIEN_. I'M COMING."

(That sounds like a man voice.)

(Jane's become a man.)

With eyes closed shut I stumble towards the place where the man voice came from, using my arms out wide to keep from running into walls, lazily speaking to whoever it is that called me.

"I'm coming, coming _right now_ just like you asked me Jayneh; beecuz I love y-." Stubbing my toe on a doorway I open my eyes and dully realize I'm in my room.

(Wait; I wasn't here before?)

…DUDE.

THIS IS WHY EVOLUTION GAVE US EYES.

So we could see magnificent naked men lying in our beds with their faces stuffed into your pillows, back completely exposed and could be close to your touch if you walked closer to them. Especially since the light from my window is giving the gentle hills of muscles on his back shadows; making the fast trickle of the bones on his stark vertebra against his soft moon bleached skin.

(Jane as a man would not look as fantastic as this guy. So, no this isn't Jane.)

FFFF HE JUST TURNED OVER TO LIE ON HIS BACK.

(FUCK YES REASON TO LIVE.)

No, he's not as cut as Thor; but with the muscles on him you can tell that he's got the body of a mean, slick fighter. His abs aren't as bulging as Thor's, but you can see the soft lumps of their power beneath his skin, suggesting strong leg muscles. Looking at his upper chest; with the swell of raw, pain causing possibility stored there, it shows and over flows to the upper flesh of his arms. The proof of their existence is a betrayal to the strength he keeps secret, waiting to take advantage of those who have forgotten about it, and use their own surprise against them.

Just looking at him serves as a reminder of last night.

Darcy, take a good long look at your new boss.

(_Hot damn_.)

Heh. He looks pissed.

Suddenly, one of his arms arches and points toward my screeching alarm clock.

"Would you kill that thing, _please_?"

"Um, uh, yea, yes I can." I ungracefully walk forward with uneven steps before fumbling to find the button to turn the damn thing off.

(Why the hell did I get such an annoying alarm clock in the first place?)

Um…To wake me up.

_For work_.

"_FUCK_! I need to get ready." Loki tumbles back to bed while I run over to my dresser drawers and gather up possible clothes options for today's outfit.

"No, no servant. It's quite alright; you have fulfilled my purpose for calling you here, you may now leave. Good bye."

(This guy is _so_ weird.)

"Umm, okay…? I'll be gone in a sec. Hey, uh, do you want anything to eat?" I turn to look at him when I notice the black scorch marks and bitter red burns riddling his body.

"_Shit_… Are you okay?" I run back over to him and look at the wounds, too stuck in shock to hide my rude curiosity, but still careful not to touch the still fresh battle scars. I don't notice his expression as it falters in a defiant anger.

"I'm _fine_."

"Dude, wait here. And I'll, um-… You know what? I _think_ I might have some ointment something for burns and stuff, lemme go check real _quick_." And then I'm off running to go look for said ointment; which is English for me pulling the drawers out of my kitchen shelves and desperately digging my hands through it looking for whatever the image of the ointment looks like in my head. And the image of the ointment hardly ever actually looks like the real ointment. Which means I'm gunna be in my kitchen for quite some time.

"Why couldn't you have just done what I said and left me alone, Darcy?" I look up and see him sitting at one of the chairs gathered at the kitchen island, my black sheets wrapped around his thin hip bones.

"It would have been so _simple_." He's exasperated and sighs into his hand as it stretches to massage both of his temples in small circles. I stand up and address him.

"I didn't leave you alone because I'm a single minded 'mortal'. Mkai?" He looks up at me, openly questioning my sanity where I stand.

"Now here's an apple." I grab a green apple from a plastic bowl residing on the island table and place it in front of him.

"If you get some food on your stomach I can give you some pain killers if it hurts."

"And I assume the pain killers would get rid of any pain I might have…?"

"So you _are_ in pain?"

"There's a possibility."

"Then yes, they'll get rid of your pain. Or get you a teeny tiny bit high."

"_They can elevate your height_?"

"WHAT? _Wha_- no, no they do _not_. _They_ do not _elevate your height_. Now eat your apple." I turn away as my face began to turn a ridiculous red and my eyes stayed wide open as I scanned my counters, looking for said pain killers. Eyes zoom in like the scope of a sniper rifle and I pounce as Loki worriedly eats his apple and, no shit, watches me some more.

Once the pill bottle is in my hands and I've already checked to make sure that it's the real thing, I trot back over to Loki and place it in front of him when I notice the empty apple core.

"DUDE HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE? HOW DID YOU EAT THAT ENTIRE THING? WHAT THE HELL DUDE. WHAT. THE. HELL."

He doesn't even react to my outburst or my horrified expression, just shuffles it aside. apparently there's something more important as he blatantly stares at the pill bottle and completely ignores my shock, loudly pronouncing another rant.

"'Dude', is most noticeably _not_ my name, so stop calling me that. You may call me Loki, if you wish. Although I am open to respectful suggestions if you have any; something along the lines of 'master', 'your highness', perhaps even 'prince' if I feel like it."

(How does 'asshole' sound, _Loki_? 'Cuz it sounds pretty good to me.)

"_Fine_. 'Loki'; I'll try not to call you dude." His head fires up with a flair of anger in his eyes.

"_No_. You _will not_ call me 'dude'."

"Okay okay, I understand. Geesh."

(Just for that, I'm not getting you any water for your pills, asshole.)

I open up the bottle and turn it upside down and pick out three red to tan circles before dropping the rest back in and handing them over to '_his highness_'. I ignore the way his hand seems to linger at the spot where our hands touch, pushing down any threatening butterflies with a toilet plunge as he greedily grabs for the pills. I don't tell him that he's supposed to swallow them, and instead just let him chew and choke on the bad taste of powder.

(And _that's_ for not saying 'thank you'.)

"Could you get me some water?"

"Sure."

(Would it be so bad if I poured him some vodka and told him it was water?)

No, I can't do that; by now I think I've been mean enough. So I grab him a clear glass and pour him some water from the sink; to which he grabs and in an instant drinks almost every single drop of it in one scary gulp. His hand slacked and he practically slammed it against the counter once he was done.

"Well, I'm gunna go get ready for work now. Bye."

(Please don't follow me… I don't know if I'll be able to ask you not to…)

I'm ready to leave the house once I'm fully dressed, keys in hand, when I stop to spare Loki a quick glance before I head out.

"I'm off to work now… I'm gunna stop by the grocery store and get you some cream or something for your burns… See ya."

"See you." The words fall from his lips; he sounds distracted and kinda sad actually. But I'm late enough; it's time for me to go.

…

"Wuzzap Coolsun?"

"Jane's busy right now and cannot be disturbed."

"_So please leave a message after the beep_."

"Excuse me?" This guy has no sense of humor.

"Uh… Look! I got you some coffee. Yay! The world is beautiful." I hand the iced coffee I got from Starbucks over to him.

"I didn't really know what you wanted… So I kinda guessed." He stops and looks at it a bit until he murmurs his conclusion.

(I get the feeling that he's on to me.)

"Darcy… This coffee is the cheapest thing on the menu at Starbucks." We just stand there and bask in the awkward silence until I finally think of something to say.

"Y'know what? I can't decide if really cool or really sad that you have the entire Starbucks menu completely memorized to the point where you know the prices. But I'm gunna go with really cool 'cuz you're a secret agent and probably know how to kick my ass in five hundred different ways using just your pinky toe."

"Eight hundred different ways, actually…"

"Now _that's_ just disturbing."

"Anyway, I have a request for you Darcy," He doesn't even wait for me to answer, "One of agents was involved in a horrible car crash this morning on his way to work; and we were wondering if you would take over the job we had in mind for him. Due to the current circumstance and the fact that, beyond all right and reason, you are the only one remotely certified thanks to some of the classes you excelled at in high school."

"What's the job?"

"Will you accept it? It ends immediately after you complete it."

Why not? I've already made a deal with the Nordic devil within the past twenty four hours; why not take over a job normally performed by a secret agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Sure. Now what's my job for today?"

"Photography; we need you to report back to the facility holding the armor you identified Friday and take classified pictures of it; we need precise pictures depicting every significant detail about this armor, understood?"

"Yep."

"A car will arrive shortly to take you to the facility. Thank you, and that goes for the coffee as well." Coulson's such a little boy scout.

"No problem bro."

"'Bro'?"

"I could call you 'sis' if you prefer that."

"No, no. 'Bro' is fine."

A quirked smile finds its way onto my face in light of the antisocial Coulson.

Maybe this day won't be so bad.

Then again it hasn't really started yet.

It's just morning; things could still go wrong.

…

I really hate this place.

(I feel like this is a place where someone would dissect an alien if they ever found one.)

The air feels dense, deeper and ominous of lurking danger.

Wait… I know this feeling; from the night where I couldn't sleep, Loki said he was watching me. Maybe he's watching me again…?

"Hey Loki…? Are you here?"

"Of course I'm here." A whelp like peep comes out of my mouth before I can stop it as I whip around to see his form standing alongside the suit of armor; _his_ suit of armor.

"Well 'hi' to you too hun." My response comes out in quick breathes as my hand grasps at my heart in shock.

"'Hun'? What does 'hun' stand for?"

"Like, honey. Sorry, is it another name you don't want to be called?" Is this guy so to become temperamental over the littlest things?

"But I am not honey. Why do you call me that?" He looks confused and it's very cute on him; he should do it more often. But he seems like a pretty smart guy so I better enjoy it while I can.

(It'd be even better if he was shirtless.)

Or completely naked and wrapped up in my sheets like he was this morning.

(Man. I'd like a postcard of _that_.)

(No, a calendar would be better, with a different picture and circumstance for each month.)

"Uh, I call you honey… Well, um… Calling someone honey is used as a term of endearment." His brow furrow even more, knitting closer together in misunderstanding.

"You find me endearing?" I can't stop my own eye brows from shooting up in surprise as my brain stalls to find an answer, leaving my jaw slack and open.

"I could…? There's a possibility, I mean, if you didn't act like an arrogant asshole. Then yea, sure, I could find you endearing."

"Since when was I an asshole?" He's a little bit pissed, but for a good reason this time.

(I'm so happy he knows what that is.)

"Well, this morning you weren't acting very nice."

"_Well_, you were being disrespectful." Aaaaand he's arrogant all over again. I take a few deep breaths to stop myself from getting defensive; if I start acting defensive this will just continue to escalate. I try to sound nice when I respond.

"Tell me how I was being disrespectful."

"You called me by something that I am not."

"You mean when I called you 'dude'?"

(_That_'_s_ what this is about?)

"Precisely." His arms are crossed over his slim chest, and there's the beginning of a pout resting on the edge of his thin lips.

"Loki, hun, 'dude' is just another term of endearment. I didn't mean to deliberately disrespect you," _I hate saying this, it's like he's won all over again,_ "I'm sorry."

The response from him is not something I would've expected.

He's drawn back, raised arms lowered to his side; any slight suggestion of anger is smothered and a ghost of surprise lies in the ashes. He seems more relaxed but his spine remains rigid, maybe even more rigid than it was before. Confusion is plainly written all over him, and just that gets me confused. Is he not used to people calling him nice little nicknames?

Well, he is a prince. Maybe no one's ever given him nicknames.

(Or maybe no one's ever given him nicknames that he _liked_.)

"In that case, I apologize for the misunderstanding. And I… _Thank you_, for explaining it to me." I can tell that he almost choked on that 'thank you' bit, but whatever, it's good enough for me.

(Baby steps, baby steps.)

"It's all good." I take out the big fancy camera they gave me and get it set up, a sneaky smile curving into place. Loki watches silently from his perch by the armor.

"Something tells me that _you_ were the reason I got this job."

"Perhaps." I can't help but give a meaningless laugh.

"Knew it."

"And how did you 'know this'?"

"Just life being typical. Of course S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't trust me enough to give me, a collage longing intern, an agent's job; even if it's something as simple as taking pictures of something that doesn't even move. Ugh." Loki doesn't refuses to comment and instead takes a seat on the table next to where they have his armor set up so he can stalk me in comfort.

By the time when I've taken more than a dozen pictures a dull realization dawns on me.

I've actually gotten used to Loki's awkward staring.

(IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!)

With this epiphany in mind, I wait awhile until I start talking again.

"Do you miss it?" There's a noticeable change in posture as he sits up.

"Miss what?"

"I dunno. Your armor I guess. Do you miss it?" He slowly inhales and exhales as he leans back.

"I hate seeing it like this. And yes; I do miss it." The melancholy flow of his words is foreign to my ears.

"It must've hurt when you crashed."

"Worst pain I've ever felt. Everything was hurting me."

(_Poor guy_…)

"Do your burns still hurt?" I try and distract him from the flood gates I might have disturbed, turn to look up at him when he quietly answers.

"No. Not for the moment."

"Hey! Where'd they go?" Any sign of the scorch marks he had this morning are gone.

"Do Gods really heal that fast?"

"No, no. I just hid them."

(…Why?)

I'd ask but I have a feeling he wouldn't really answer.

"You don't have to hide them hun…" His eyes collapse against mine when I say the new nickname I gave him, quelling whatever defensive side he was about to take.

"I just assumed that one like yourself would prefer it that way."

(Why is he acting so weird about this?)

(Then again; what doesn't he act weird about?)

"I'm not like most people. Not to mention I've already made a deal that makes me your servant, and I don't think I'm gunna be backing out of that anytime soon; so it doesn't really matter to me how bad you look. I'm still gunna be your servant any way." He hesitated for a brief period of time, but what I said must've encouraged him in some way, because eventually his posture slumped and his eyes closed as he massaged his temples in rough circles as the disguise slowly faded away.

I can see why he was hiding this…

He is contorted, twisted, broken, and bent.

His body has been beaten down to nothing but a skeleton of pale, predisposed twigs with muscles he's too sore to use. There's the strange way he holds himself; like some unknown force is pulling him forward, like he's about to fall. The strength that he's managed to keep all along was for something as simple as survival. His hands are strangely angled from the underground bones poking through, his slight lips have cracks of red playing on their faint coloration, and underneath his eyes are obscure purple bruised half circles.

Everything he is right now is just a testament to how weak he's become, a nightmare compared to the former glory he used to be.

"Loki, hun, you don't look so good…"

"You think I don't know that?"

He's weak.

But he doesn't want to be.

He doesn't want to be seen like this. He doesn't want people to remember him like this.

"I'm guessing you don't feel that good either." He doesn't answer.

"Look, I'm basically done with this 'job'. So let's get out of here and get you feeling better. Sound good to you; Prince Loki, God of Chaos and new master?" I know I sound like a suck up, but who knows; maybe it'll help cheer him up.

Of course it doesn't; but it was worth a shot.

"I-…" He looks over at the second skin lying on the table beside him.

He doesn't want to leave his suit of armor, his loyal protector of all these years.

"I don't think I'd be able to sneak your armor out of here." And I don't think he can use much of his magic in his sickly state.

"I know," He stands up, a challenge igniting in his eyes, "But I will come back to reclaim it."

I don't doubt him.

**(p.s. next chapter will have action of some sort! weither or not it's sexual is undecided X])**


	9. Snake in the Grass

**I AM NOT DEAD. Yay! Even though this is more of a filler chapter, it's still a chapter none the less! Which is better than nothing. But this chapter is shorter than the last one and althoug it doesn't have much Loki/Darcy but the next chapter does, so hopefully the next chapter won't take me too long to write. This chapter also doesn't have the action that I promised, but there definetly is an undercurrent of things that will be important in the future. And honetly, Coulson needs to stop popping in and being such an attention whore, 'cuz it's starting to feel like he's almost in every chapter. **

**But, Darcy has an important desicion to make, and want to know what you guys think about what she should do about it; so please let me know, small plot points depend upon it.**

**I hope you guys like this chapter and of course the story overall; but there is another Loki/Darcy one shot I wrote for a fifty sentence prompt if anyone wants to check it out, it's a tad bit steamier than this one and fluffy as hell. And you guys are just awesome; I really just want to give everyone a nice warm cup of sex, that's how thankful I am to all of you and how amazing you all are. **

**Sincerly, D.o.t.B.**

"So you ate _everythin_g?"

"Yes."

"So now _everything_ is gone."

"Yes; everything that is edible inside of your kitchen is gone."

Great. Just, great. This is exactly what I need to help me save my money for college; having to restock my kitchen because my new roommate got hungry. Awesome. Thank you world, this is exactly what I wanted.

(Although to be fair, new roommate is pretty damn sexy.)

(Mmmmmmyummy Nordic god.)

I'm tired of feeling like such a downer today.

"Well, guess this means we get to go shopping." I grabbed him gently by his elbow and dragged him with me as we left Jane's lab; oblivious to the Coulson shark lurking in the waters.

"Ms. Lewis, who are you talking to?"

"WHAT THE FU- Ohai Coulson, wuzzup?"

"Who were you talking to."

(That's not a question…)

I look to Loki, or at least the spot where he used to be, and notice his absence just now.

(Thank you Loki, for conveniently fucking me over.)

I look back to Coulson and try to come up with a 'good enough' answer to his so called question-statement.

"I was walking to my car _and_ talking to myself. That is what I was doing… I wasn't doing anything else. That's it. Just walkin and talkin. That's two of my favorite activities. What's your two favorite activities, Coulson?"

"When people tell me the truth, _Lewis_." He has a way of making my name sound like an insult when he's starting to get pissed off.

"But that's only one favorite activity, _Phil_." He looks shocked.

"Wait; that is your name, right?"

"… Yes."

"Well, see ya; Imma go shopping."

"Do I even _want_ to know why?"

"I need tampons." His face looks funny. How very unCoulson of him.

"Oh, and I need to get a lot more food. Because _apparently_ I'm feeding for two now." He tried to contain composure but his eyes betrayed him and swelled up in shock, his eye brows raised high. Beside me I heard Loki's lightly chuckling to himself.

"But you said that you needed ta- congratulations Ms. Lewis."

"Oh thanks, on what?" His brows furrowed and his head twisted to the side in confusion.

"On the-..." He gestured to his stomach and made a circular motion.

"Um, I had a good breakfast?"

"No. The-…" His hand moved faster and face contorted into a pained expression.

"Coulson, I don't know if it's because I'm really bad at play charades or because you just suck at it; but what does," I made the circle around the tummy thing, "This mean?"

Okay Darcy, time to use some brain.

Stomach… Circles…'Congratulations'…

Why does stomach and circle have to do with 'congratulations'?

…DING…

"OHGAWD COULSON I AM NOT _PREGNANT_." Apparently my face scares him because he gets defensive.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU WERE INFERING."

(It's amazing how he can keep up that deadpan in his voice even when practically yelling at me.)

"I WAS NOT '_INFERING_' ANYTHING. Do I really look big enough to be preggers?" His hand moves as he massages the embarrassment away before looking back up at me.

"No, Darcy, you do not look pregnant."

"THANK YOU! 'Cuz bro, that was a total confidence kill. And I'm buying food 'cuz a raccoon broke into my house and ate all my food."

"A raccoon in New Mexico?"

"I don't know! I guess it could've been a rebellious hungry rattle snakes that decided to be alternative… and hopefully isn't still slithering 'round my house because if it is I _will_ die…" He's giving me a confused look.

(I don't really blame him.)

"Do you just wake up each morning and just decide to act the way you do?"

"At this point it's not really a choice anymore." I shrug it off and give him a sideways smile.

"So, what's up bro?" His secret agent training kicks in as his shoulders square and his spine straightens.

"I just have a couple questions that would be better to ask inside rather than out here."

"Um okay, sure." I follow him as he walks me back into the building that a part of Jane's lab.

(Loki please don't get pissed; this isn't my fault, its Coulson's fault, so curse him.)

(…)

(Actually please don't, most people don't really like him anyway and I don't think he has any friends at work, so go easy on the poor guy. Not to mention he has to clean up the public mess Stark's always so intent on making, so be nice. 'Cuz anyone else with his job would've killed Stark by now, and apparently we need him alive.)

(For whatever reason…)

(Hm, maybe part of Coulson's job is to keep everyone else from killing Stark and at the same time trying not to kill Stark himself.)

(That's interesting.)

We've entered the old building we started out in, of course with some of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s upgrades; but most of the big science is done at the big official base here in New Mexico, but theories are still made here, as well as some more of the less important stuff. But some creepy one way glass interrogation rooms, and then a long secretive hallway that is a one way conveyor belt all the way to the official base in case someone discovers something so amazing that it has to be shared _right now_.

Of course that stuff's all underground; hidden away so no one can see it.

(Because apparently no one seeing it is important.)

"So, where are we going exactly?" I ask him as we tread down stairs.

"To where the interrogation corridors are held."

"I'm being interrogated now?" He opens up the door to one of said rooms.

"It's just a couple questions that we need upmost privacy for; it's nothing to worry about and you'll be free to go soon." He opens up the door like the gentlemen he's combed to be.

"That's good, I don't want me being worried upsetting the baby." I walk in and sit down on the cold metal chair, hands folded on the table, facing the mirror as he closes the door behind him after letting himself in after me.

That's when I notice Loki's reflection in the mirror.

He's there where my reflection should be, but noticeably isn't; and it's still got me quickly turning around to see if he's behind me, but he isn't. When I look back there's a dry smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes, and it makes me feel like this has just turned into a very bad situation.

Coulson comments as he pulls a tape recorder out of his suit pocket and slaps a new tape in.

"Darcy I told you, you don't look pregnant; although you do look slightly pale. Is everything alright?" My mind is moving too slowly to even think of a response yet I feel my mouth moving as my voice slips strong words of reassurance; all the while the only thing I'm looking at is Loki as his mouth moves in motion with mine, crafting my words for me.

"Oh no, everything's fine. I'm just a bit tired, that's all." Coulson sits down across from me, his reflection is there in the mirror, but from beyond his shoulder I can still see Loki behind and across from him; behind the real Coulson, yet across from his reflection.

This is just too weird…

"Well, your grave yard shift ends after this and you can do whatever you need to get done," His thumb hovers over a button on the tape recorder that rests in his hand "Now, let's get this over with." Once his thumb has pressed down on the button his mouth spills official sounding things like the date and location and time; and of course I don't even listen until he says:

"Now, please introduce yourself."

"My name is Darcy Lewis; I work as an intern for Jane Foster."

(Ugh. I hate stuff like this. It's like swallowing someone's backwash.)

"Thank you Ms. Lewis; let's begin questioning."

"Okay." His gaze intensifies in a cold manner; one of those uncomfortable looks where you can tell someone's not actually listening to you, they're just watching you to see your reaction. I try to think of the steps people use to pretend they're not lying about something when they are; just in case I have to lie to him, I don't want to get caught.

"Now, can you agree that more people have been moving to this small town ever since Thor's departure?" Don't really have to lie for that…

"Um yea, I guess. I mean, a lot of people just started showing up out of nowhere because of alien invasion rumors or something to do with religious schemes."

"Have you ever been singled out in any circumstance by one of these people?"

('These people'? Really Coulson, are you that much of a lone wolf?)

"Umm, one time this guy asked me to be his apocalypse wife… Does that count?"

"Yes, everything counts. Would you agree that many of these people have an eccentric nature to them, but are otherwise harmless?"

"Definitely. Those guys couldn't hurt a fly unless they killed it with a plastic sword."

(But killing usually counts as hurting so… I guess that counts as hurting a fly.)

COULSON: 2

DARCY: 2

(FFFF HES CATCHING UP.)

(Wait, how many points does Loki have?)

He was sneaky when I first met him.

He's constantly seducing me.

He screwed with me to get me to become his servant.

He stole my bed and made me sleep on the couch.

And then he ate all my food behind my back.

(DAMN IT.)

COULSON: 2

DARCY: 2

LOKI: 5

(But wait, he stole my reflection too.)

COULSON: 2

DARCY: 2

LOKI: 6

(WHAT THE HELL? HE HAS THREE TIMES THE AMOUT OF POINTS AS I DO. THIS IS NOT OKAY. I refuse to let him win an imaginary competition going on in my head.)

(Well, at least I still have more points than Jane.)

"Have you ever felt like you've been followed by someone who's new to this town?" Wha…?

"Um, I don't-…" I try and think back to times where I've felt like I've been followed by someone before Loki showed up.

"Well, this was this one time after my laundry machine broke down and I went to the local laundry mat to wash my clothes; and there was this guy who kept watching me… He didn't really look like any of the other new people… He was much more serious and he just kinda gave me the creeps…"

"Can you think of any other time where you felt singled out in a situation where you wouldn't have felt so normally?"

"Yea… I have actually… I remember one time I was driving around, I don't even remember why, but I felt like this car was following me. So I kept driving around trying to shake it, and I don't know if I lost them or they just gave up, but at some point I looked behind me and they were gone."

"You said 'they', could you see the amount of people in the car?"

"Well no, the windows were shaded too dark for me to see anyone."

"Can you describe the man from the laundry mat in more detail?"

"There wasn't anything about him that stood out… He had tan hair, I think, I couldn't really see it 'cuz he was wearing a hat. He wore a lot of black now that I think about it… Actually I think everything he was wearing was black… Wait a second; he was wearing sunglasses, _inside_."

"That's certainly interesting. Thank you Ms. Lewis, that is all." The tape recorder is in his hand as he presses his thumb down on the button to turn it off and next thing I know he's already standing up getting ready to leave.

"Wait, Coulson; what the hell is this all about?" I stand up to stop him.

"That's classified informa-."

"Bullshit. You were asking personal questions about some weirdos following me. This obviously has to do with how involved I am with S.H.I.E.L.D. and I want to know why. If 'these people', the threatening ones, corner me in an alley or follow me to my house I want to know what I'm up against."

"Darcy, don't kid yourself, they probably already know where you live."

This is crossing a line that I know I should not be crossing.

"_Wha-what_? W-who are these people?"

"We have reason to believe that HYDRA has been secured in this area."

"Who the hell is 'HYDRA'?"

"HYDRA is a secretive terrorist organization group dedicated to the achievement of world domination that has existed for who knows how long, but has worked alongside with people like Hitler and his third Reich. They are extremely dangerous and not to be tampered with." I don't even notice that I've started hyperventilating. I cover my mouth to attempt to stop myself, head spinning and dizzy from sudden lack of oxygen. Once I'm under enough control I try to get some more answers, if there are any to find.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You asked me."

"No, you've told me way more than an intern should know." His head cocks to the side, his body sways slightly as he folds his hands behind his back.

There's a drastic change in him.

"We've been looking over certain aspects of your records Ms. Lewis. Some of your old courses are particularly interesting; take your physical education for example. Apparently you have some talent there, that if you choose to hone in on it, it could prove to be very useful to you in the future should you choose to pursue it."

"Useful to me or useful to S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Useful to you both; if you are indeed interested in accepting the offer."

"Offer for what? A personnel trainer at the gym?" He gives a polite smile.

"No, not quite. It's an offer to join S.H.I.E.L.D. in becoming one of our agents."


	10. FML

**I'M ALIVE! Man, you never realize how long it's been since you've updated until one of reviewers asks you if you got in a car accident X]**

**In all seriousness though, thank you Child of Asgard for showing your concern, you are such a sweet heart and I had no idea I'd been gone that long.**

**In less than ten days I start school again, so I'm not sure when the next time will be when I update, and my boss said J-O-B word so my internship might turning into me getting a full paying job. So, point of that story, I will be busy, but I really feel passionate about keeping this story alive and continuing it, but updates might be even slower.**

**I've also been whoring myself off to my parents to get them to buy me the 'Thor' DVD since it comes out in September six days before my birthday... I don't even know if I can wait six days to see Loki again...**

**Speaking of Loki, I hope he isn't too tragically out of character this chapter; personally I just see him as someone who's incredibly okay with his body and willing to show it off.**

**And guys, go listen to Maria Mena's 'He's Hurting Me', because I put it in this chapter while listening to it,but sadly words do not make sound and I realized that it's only when her voice is singing does it match the scene.**

**That is all, Hope you guys enjoy! Please leave a review to tell me what you think!**

**Sincer, D.o.t.B.**

My minds moving a million miles an hour and all I can barely process is the fact that I'm moving, and apparently I'm moving fast. Air comes in and out of my lungs abnormally fast in giant breaths, my face scrunching up to something I can only assume is hideous as I try my hardest not to scream at the top of my lungs in blind rage.

Once I'm in my car and the door is slammed shut do I know that I have found my sanctuary.

"THIS IS NOT FUCKING OKAY." I temporarily lose control of my limbs and proceed to flail around in seizure like motions as flap my arms like I'm a bat flying around in broad daylight; the whole time hurling insults and cuss words at the invisible Coulson floating around in my head.

But I don't notice any of this, oh no, I'm too FUCKING PISSED OFF TO PAY THE FUCK ATTENTION TO FUCKING ANYTHING.

FUCK.

Gee, I sure hope my life was wearing a condom when it decided to FUCK ME OVER.

I wouldn't call it the rational side of me, but somehow half of my brain decided to work while the other half practically short circuited and blew my internal hard drive as slam the gas pedal flat against the floor. Teeth gritted I grind them to stop from screaming ballistic white noise into black, soundless, _oblivion_ that is my complete idiotic existence.

(What is this I don't even _fuck_.)

I am Eminem and Bateman from American Psycho chopped up and boiled and slapped into a _mother fucking_ blender and given tits.

(…)

(The second after I completed that thought I realized how crazy I sound.)

I try to calm down and slow down my mind and breathe, if only for the simplest of seconds, and pry my foot off the gas so I don't crash the damn car.

(And even if I do somehow crash, I'll just crash into a cactus.)

(And last time I checked cactuses don't count as people, so there's no guilt there.)

Man, have I listened to myself lately?

'Cuz I sound like a crazy shopping cart lady.

(Does this mean I can get a prescription for the best candy the doctors got?)

I need to stop sometime before I say any of this out loud.

You never fully realize how toe sucking insane you sound until you've said it out loud in front of friends considered more conservative-than-you, or polite co workers who find basic things like having a giant sock collection jaw dropping, or some very attractive my-body-is-ready guys.

Wait; speaking of attractive guys…

Where's Loki?

My eyes look up to check my rearview mirror to see if he's there, and by some off chance miracle I see him looking back at me; a cross between worry and fear etched into his ridiculously beautiful features.

"Is… Is it safe to speak now?" It's like he's crawling out of a bomb shelter…

"Yea... Yea, it's all good. I just had a lot of… '_complex_ _feelings'_ for a moment there… Sorry." He slowly nods, adjusting to the situation, his eyes looking around him, while I turn the radio down so I can hear him better.

"What is this thing?"

"Oh, um, it's a car. It's errr-_Midgard_'s version of horses."

"Do you still have horses?"

"Yea, but people normally use cars."

"Why don't you use horses?"

"Well, I guess it's because cars are more dependable in certain ways." That answer seems to suit him, because he's quite for a moment before launching off another question.

"What is the name of your noble car?"

"Starship Enterprise... But that's beside the point because most people usually don't name their cars…"

"And most 'people' don't usually have your eccentric tastes, I presume?"

(Yes, let's just call it 'eccentric'.)

(Not crazy, insane, or mentally unstable.)

(Nope, just eccentric.)

"Yea, yea they don't." I can't stop an awkward look from growing in full bloom on my face.

(I don't think anyone has ever said something more true about me than what he just said in my entire life.)

(I think that this is a sign that I need more friends…)

"Where is Starship Enterprise taking us?"

"_Shopping_."

…

"I don't see any food."

"Yea, there's no food here."

"I thought we were going food shopping."

"We'll get food later. I feel like clothes shopping right now." He turns to look at me with bland suspicion mixed in his expression. Suddenly he's eyes narrow slightly, liking he's putting together the pieces of a puzzle.

"You're nervous, and this is a knee jerk reaction to try and get rid of It." his face softens by a fraction, his voice filled with experience.

"It's not going to work and you're still going to have to make a decision eventually." I sigh and my face falls into my hands, knowing exactly what he's talking about.

"I don't want to talk about this. I just want to buy some clothes."

"Go ahead." I look up at him, and realize something completely oblivious that never dawned on me until this moment.

"Where did you get those clothes?"

"I'm a shape shifter; I didn't get them from anywhere."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not wearing any clothes."

My brows furrow, my eyes explode, and my mind scrambles egg.

"_WAHT_."

"I'm not wearing any clothes…?"

(CANNOT COMPUTE.)

"…_This is _not_ accepted in public_…" I whisper, staring at him with horror transfixed on my face.

I think I stared at him for a while, with a disturbed look on my face.

And he just stared back, looking like he just realized that he had disturbed the natural order of things.

"You are not allowed to be naked in public ever." My voice came out a lot deeper than I thought it would. I hook his arm around mine by the elbow and drag him to the men's section of the store, shaking my head the entire time, silently murmuring 'no' the entire way there.

(MUST NOT. IMAGINE LOKI'S. _HALF NAKED_ BODY. THAT I SAW. THIS MORN-_NING._)

_Nuegh_.

Forget it, the image is already there.

Mindlessly I start looking through some guy clothes that would look good on Loki.

(Then again I don't really have to try very hard to make Loki look good.)

"Hey, what size do you think you are?" He's standing there, studying the mall before him, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and wandering. Once I've asked the question though his attention is back within milliseconds, quick firing an answer.

"I'm not quite sure." Then, once he's thought about it for a second longer;

"I am of average Loki size."

(Not gunna lie.)

(… This guy is kinda hopeless.)

"Would Loki size happen to be large, medium, or small?"

"What does it matter? Where's the seamstress?"

"Ohhhh, you're used to having your clothes specially made… Okay. Thought you were crazy for a second there."

"As if you have room to talk." His lips curve as he bows his head.

"Oh hush."

(Is that a smile? Does that count as a smile? Did I make him smile?)

GASP.

I MADE HIM SMILE.

FUCK YES.

DARCY WINS.

Must not celebrate yet, will wait.

Pay-shent-lee.

"Hmm." I circle him, my hand gripping my chin in contemplation, Loki's head turning to follow me, thankfully leaving me to size him up in uninterrupted thought.

(Ignoring his nice… majestic… toned… butt.)

You know, I usually do this better if…

"Can I?" His back is to me, but he sees me from the corner of his eye.

"Yes…?" I don't give him time to refuse when I suddenly wrap my arms around him in a tight hug. From what I can see of his profile he's shell shocked, and I feel his nails crudely digging into my wrist in the constriction of his grip.

"You don't get many hugs, do you?"

"_What are you doing_?"

"Let me go." Variants of anger swell in his skeletal frame

"Please…?" Just thought I'd put it out there as an afterthought.

Hesitantly he releases me, and I back away, trying not to act phased.

"You're about a small medium. So I'll get two sizes of everything you pick off the rack, and you can try on both and we can just get whatever fits you. And I'll make sure it's long enough to fit your height. Sound good?"

He just stares with slightly narrowed, reluctant green eyes.

He then proceeds to turn around decisively and walk away, leaving me completely stranded.

(_Awesome_.)

So of course I follow like the bumbling servant I've been reduced to.

(Even though it is my own damn fault.)

(Everything just feels better when I can blame it on someone else.)

He swoops around, and I gotta admit he's got some pretty good taste; he manages to find the changing room by himself, content to have me carry his clothes in ranging sizes of small and medium.

(Luckily he didn't grab a pair of pajamas… Which means I still have a good chance of seeing him half naked every morning.)

He's standing outside of his changing stall when he turns to me, clearly in a better mood than before; when I apparently pissed him off.

"Would you like to come in?"

I really shouldn't-.

"Sure."

(Business perks Darcy, business perks.)

Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide a grin when you know that you're about to see the body of possibly one of the sexiest Nordic gods?

I'll let you know that it is really hard.

(P-P-P-Poker Face, P-P-P-Poker Face.)

Once the door's closed I play the part of a gentle woman and cover my blushing face while he becomes butt naked and slips on the black briefs I grabbed.

(I only peaked a little bit… Over all I think I had a lot of self control considering the fact that I've been single for a while now.)

And no, I did not see…

(_Oh man I can't even say that word right now_.)

I am so flustered it is not even funny.

"Is this how it's supposed to look?"

"_Yes_." A squeaky turned on mouse has trapped itself in my vocal cords, that is the only reason my voice has this high of a pitch.

That is the _only_ reason.

Nothing else.

"Darcy, yours hands are covering your eyes. I sincerely doubt you can see anything right now."

FUCK.

"Now stop acting like a child and move your hands before I do it for you."

_Very_. _Flustered_. _Awkward_. _Sexual_. FRUSTRATION.

(You know what, who gives a shit? I don't give a shit. Look at all the shits I don't give.)

(Fa lalala.)

So, I move my hands down my face so they aren't covering my eyes.

I am trying to be completely adult about this.

Okay, I used to be a bit of an artsy fartsy person; I've seen nude models.

I've had sex before; I've seen guys completely naked before.

I _know_ the male anatomy.

But _hot damn_.

_HOT DAMN_.

Does not even describe.

This guy needs a warning label, because he is 95% unclothed in front of me.

Bare, fair skin, has been poured into the mold of his body; completing every curve of well trained muscles, to make them profoundly defined at every angle.

And it goes on forever.

_Forever_.

From the peak of his head down to his feet.

I mean, sure, he's still not looking all that healthy.

But he makes 'car accident' look damn sexy.

And well…

I melted, I softened, I combusted, I ignited, I froze, I exploded.

And of course gave an embarrassing little kid happy squeak.

"Yea it looks good everything looks good the world is good. And good. Everything is very good. I'm good. I'm _good_. Everything's good. But I need to shut up, so I'm gunna… But it looks good. You look good. I'm gunna stop talking now. Like, right now. Okay, I'm done. I'm done. Stopping now."

(I need to give that Craig's list killer my address the second I get home because I am acting like a fool in front of a God.)

My face is hot and probably beat red, my hands and ticking and flitting around, making it obvious that I'm nervous, and only now can I manage to round up more self control to stop myself from sexually violating him with my eyes.

By some miracle I hear something that sounds like someone trying not to laugh.

I look up at Loki, his mouth cultivating a poorly hidden smile, his hand slicking back dark locks, head turned towards the ground; all the while openly rolling his eyes in a theatrical gesture.

"Well, thank you for your input… I am going to try on some of the actual clothing now."

"Okay…"

(As if he needs my permission.)

So he tries on all his clothes, me only really paying 'polite' attention when he starts to take those clothes off; of course every damn thing looks good on him, as far as I'm concerned anything would look good on him, even a giant meat suit.

(GaGa be jealous.)

(_Be_. _Jealous_.)

So this is when I start picking up and carefully folding some of the clothes he already tried on, because I've been being polite and looking at the multicolored carpet for way too long; and I start noticing the price tags.

And to put it simply; I am on a low budget.

And to put it even more simply; with the money I have on me now, I would only be able to buy the briefs.

(Can I blame this on the economy?)

(Yes I can.)

(ECONOMY _FAIL_.)

"Hey, um, Loki? Funny story… I don't really have that much money on me right now so… We'll just remember all this stuff for next time, how 'bout that?"

('Next time' being when I actually get a job…)

"You mean to say that you don't have any currency at hand?"

(Fuck is he saying.)

"Umm, well… I have 'currency'; I just don't have enough of this 'currency'."

"That's not a problem."

"Um, yea. Yea it is."

"Can you show me the currency that you have?" I pull out a twenty for him to see.

He takes it and examines it for a moment before handing it back to me; leaving his hand to hover over mine when I suddenly feel the flutter of paper pouring into my hand.

Once he's done doing whatever it is that he just did, I pull my hand back and see _several _twenties all piled up in my hand.

I think my mouth just made a perfect 'O' shape while he smirks.

"I told you that it was not a problem."

"This… This is _counterfeit_… Loki, this is _illegal_, I could get arrested for this!" I say in a hushed whisper, but annunciating my words so he gets the idea that this is _very bad_.

"No one needs to know. This can just lie still between you and I."

"Someone's gunna find out and I am going to get sent to jail!" Of course I'm freaking out and almost hyperventilating while he's perfectly calm.

"If, by some bizarre event someone should find out, I have ways to deal with it." His hands clasp around my shoulders and he's instantly got my attention.

"Everything will be okay." Now he's the one giving volume to each word, leaving them to ring in my head and put aside any doubts.

"… I don't care what you say; I'm still gunna get arrested…" I mumble with my face towards the floor, eye brows pulled so tight I can feel the giant crease along my forehead.

"Then I'll break you out." He me a gives me a firm pat on the shoulder, that victorious smirk sliding into place, making me wonder if he actually means it.

(I'd have to beg Jane to bail me out…)

('Cuz Coulson's too damn legally strict about stuff like that.)

(…)

(Ffffffffffff Coulson.)

DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. _DON'T THINK ABOUT IT_.

I don't… know.

Loki's already gone and out the door heading over to the cash register before I can ask him what he'd do in my situation with S.H.I.E.L.D.

(Would asking him even be a good idea?)

(Hmm, I don't really see why not.)

(I mean it's not like he knows what S.H.E.I.L.D. really stands for or anything.)

(Right?)

(Right.)

…

I have been trying to distract myself for hours now.

Trying not to think about it. Trying not to make a decision.

(A decision I'll have to make eventually anyway.)

Truth is, I don't want to make this decision.

I just…

Loki's hidden himself in his own little corner of the world, leaving me to watch T.V. while never truly seeing the moving images on the screen.

I am a bee trapped in a glass jar.

Trying to break free, to resist in every possible way, but by the end of all my rebellious trysts I'm still trapped. Seeing the world move in slow motion around me; watching other bees as they work for their queen. I'm trying to work for my queen, but everything I do has no real meaning. I can try all I want; whatever I gather in the jar, whatever progress I try to make, it will never reach her. I am surrounded by the significant yet still manage to remain insignificant.

(Wow, might as well as play the violin along my wrists with a razor; I sound pretty damn emo.)

But… I can't-…

There is no cure for where my mind is stuck.

I find my iPod and play Maria Mena, and once I hear her practiced vocals expression her own pain and personal afflictions I can silently drown myself in the carpet.

_I've never been confronted with my own thoughts,  
>They don't bother me when I'm alone.<br>Can you come over? Save me, because he won't stop.  
>Now get him off his fucking throne.<em>

_Caution the floor's wet in here, I've been crying.  
>I don't know why he seems convinced I'm lying.<br>I don't know what he's capable of doing,  
>but he's hurting me.<em>

(Maria, we have nothing in common but your voice is so pretty and I am in mental _paaaaaaain_.)

(Ugh, what with Loki's strip tease, I would've thought today could've been a good day…)

('Cuz as far as I'm concerned, any day is a good day when you get a strip tease from a reasonably appealing guy.)

(A reasonably appealing guy who happens to make me go all 'MY BODY IS READY' every time he gives that sideways sultry look.)

(Which is not fair and would count as an attack move if life was a video game.)

"What are you doing?" I pull out my ear buds at the sound of his voice.

(Well look who decided to exist…)

"Trying to kill myself via smelly carpet." I turn my head to the side and look up at him.

"… And how is that working out for you?" He sits down next to me, folding his long legs close to his chest as he leans against the wall.

"Very well actually, I'm a ghost now." He gives a small sigh; for a moment there is only silence until he ruins it by bringing up exactly what I was trying to avoid.

"Have you decided upon what answer you are going to give Phil Coulson?" My face is back in the carpet.

"Wur knot having thes convurstation."

"Yes we are." I look back up at him again.

(What makes him so decisive all the sudden?)

"I am a ghost now, I don't have to worry about stuff like that." He has this look that says dear-god-I-am-dealing-with-a-_child_.

(I know this look well…)

"All mighty Ghost Darcy; please, let's be logical here."

"I don't need to be logical, I'm a ghost." His large hand floats down onto the small of my back, giving me some strange comfort.

"I just brought you back to life." He lightly places his hands along my shoulders and flips me over onto my back.

"NO." I try to flip back over onto my stomach but he pulls me up by my upper arms. Next thing I know I'm half sitting up awkwardly leaning against the wall next to the infamous Loki; giving him the best glare I can muster, his comforting touch instantly forgotten.

"Now, what compromise has been made?"

"I-… _I don't know_…" My voice is quiet and small, almost lost in the storm that's encased me, yet Loki still hears it beyond the chaos. My arms hold my legs to my chest, my face nuzzled against my knees, trying to stay away from Loki's truth burning eyes.

"That's a lie.

"You do know. You just want to pretend you don't, because your mind is not yet dedicated to the answer, and you want someone to talk you out of it. That way, should whatever you choose prove to be a fruitless endeavor, you have someone to blame; because people rarely chose to place the blame upon themselves, even when it is their fault." It's only when he pauses and our eyes clash do I realize my head has lifted to meet his line of sight.

"But, should what some outsider told you to choose turns fortunate, then they have room to take credit for your work. And what soul honestly wouldn't given the chance? But, if you made the choice by yourself, the credit for your own hard work belongs solemnly to you, as it should.

"Darcy, this could turn into something worth the while."

"It could turn into something that wastes my time, Loki."

"What are the down sides to accepting an opportunity such as this?"

"Um, I could get _killed_."

"You could also get killed going to the supermarket, but you risk that, don't you?"

"Bad guys are going to _kick _my _ass_."

"And you will learn from your mistakes and become a better agent as a result of it."

"I see no point in me becoming a secret agent."

"But you can improve yourself in ways you never thought of."

"I'll be practically useless working for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"No one's ever useless when they're working."

"I'm definitely not made to get a job working for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"People are never made for a job; a job is made for them."

"I'll be the new girl and people will make fun of me."

"Remember their insults and use it against them later in life."

"I don't know how to fight."

"I'll teach you."

"I don't think I should join."

"Doesn't matter what you think, what matters is if you act upon it."

"I'm too weird to work for the government."

"And I'm sure they'll enjoy your unique input."

"… I hate you."

"Only because I'm right."

(_Asshole_.)

…

I don't think I slept at all last night.

I am tired, _tired_,_ TIRED,_ and at work and Coulson sent some guy in a suit to walk me to meet him and I still don't know what to do, even though Loki claims that I do know what to do, but that's pointless because no matter what he says I still _don't_, and the world sucks, and I need coffee because I did not get sleep last night because everything is stupid and damn it I wish I was a ghost.

I see Coulson at the end of the hallway with his suit navy blue and his shirt blindingly white, looking into one of the interrogation rooms, waiting for me.

I keep walking to meet him, even when the agent he sent to get me stopped following me a while back.

When I'm side to side with Coulson I get even more nervous than I was before.

"Ms. Lewis."

"Philly cheese steak." He throws me a questioning look, but I miss it as I swallow what little spit my dry mouth still has.

The man that's to be cross examined is looking at pictures with shaking hands that move to swipe at the sweat pouring from his forehead.

I see Loki in there with him, standing by his side as he peers over and looks at the pictures to see for himself what's making this man tremble.

When he feels my eyes trickle over him he looks up, acknowledging me with a private nod and an encouraging smile.

"Do you have an answer?"

"Do you have any coffee?" He hands me over his cup of black coffee.

(Hallelujah.)

I take a giant swig of the stuff and try not to throw up.

(And it's not because of the taste…)

"Hey Coulson."

"Yes Darcy?"

"Where do I sign up?"


	11. Nice to Meet You

**Holy fuck. I finally got it done. This chapter is way longer than I meant it to be, rounding up to about a whopping eighteen pages, but oh wells. Chapters after this will most likely be shorter, but that's exactly what I said about this chapter, and that turned out to be complete bull, so we'll see how it turns out; just don't be surprised if it is shorter than the normal dose.**

**Okay, I'm tired, but I finished all my homework, and yet I have no clue when I'll be able to update, because it's easier to write on breaks and things, and I don't know when I have one...**

**Plus the whole school/theatre/work juggling act, but so far so good.**

**My Birthday was yesterday, so jokes on you Claire, because I got some cake (and that cake had Loki's face on it which was epic).**

**OKAY. I'm done ranting.**

**Love you guys, and tell me what you think of this chapter, hope you enjoy.**

**~D.o.t.B.**

**(CHARACTER NOTES: Agent Garret is the agent who called into base saying 'We got Xena, Robinhood, and Jackie Chan', Agent Cale was with him on that roof top. Jasper Sitwell is the guy who always seems to be where ever Coulson is, and can be better seen in the Thor one shot 'The Consultant'. Also, NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE OC'S, THEY ARE FROM MARVEL COMICS OR FROM MARVEL'S MOVIES.)**

**And here. We. Go.**

"Okay, so there's water in the sink and cups in the cabinets, and I know I haven't gone shopping yet, so there's not really any food. But, um, there's toothpaste in, um, the bathroom, and I-I guess you could try eating some of that, if, uh, you're hungry… Well, actually, I think I read somewhere that toothpaste can kill you if you eat it… But doesn't mouth wash do that to? Okay, um, never mind eating the toothpaste… It'd be… Kinda _bad_ if you died… But, I think that floss is dissolvable… So, you could eat that. If, you know, you're like, _really _hungry… Well, um, I'm gunna go now; so, call me. If _anything_… bad, happens. So I'll just, um, see you later… I guess… _Bye_."

Loki's freaked out questioning face is not as apparent as it usually is; which means that:

Option 1: He's starting to get used to my sporadic behavior.

Or

Option 2: He's beginning to understand that he has to live with me and is practicing new ways to deal with it and get what he wants.

"What am I to do in the meantime?"

(Take note: he is now practicing the 'bitch plz' attitude. This means he has taken the Option 2 approach. Expect difficulties.)

"Um. I don't know…"

"How am I to entertain myself then?"

(That sounds dirrrrtty.)

"Umm, well I-."

"Forget it. Please, commence with your departure. I shall simply sit here. For hours. Alone."

(He's like a guilt tripping teenage girl.)

"It's only maybe gunna be hours long. I don't really know yet."

"Good day, Darcy."

(Well that's one way to end a conversation.)

"See ya."

…

"Congratulations Ms. Lewis, you're actually on time."

"Here to make a good impression, since it's my first day and all." Coulson's rigid but puts up a polite smile, not even a second later it's gone.

"I've been put on several assignments where I've had to deal with Tony Stark, and as you've probably heard that Mr. Stark is famous for frequenting parties and other illustrious social gatherings, and at those places of high respect he's better known for making a mess of himself."

(Story time already?)

"But the point I'm trying to get across is; I know the smell of alcohol quite well."

(Uh oh.)

"Darcy, why do you smell like you've been drinking?"

(…)

I feel my face stretch and my nostrils flare as I attempt to keep a poker face and fail epicly.

"Like I said, it's my first day. I have a reason to be nervous-."

"That doesn't count as a reason to drink."

"It was only one glass."

His stare cuts all the way through my skull.

"Fine. Two glasses."

Aaaaaaaaaaand he doesn't let up.

"I'mm gunna go make myself some black coffee, do you want any?"

"Four sugars and two creams. And you might want to think about drinking a lot of water."

(Whatever you say Captain Buzz Kill.)

(Well, he has good intentions.)

(Which is more than I can say for Loki.)

(Ugh, I don't even want to think about what he's doing to my house.)

(Please _please_ _please_don't let it be on fire.)

(_**Please**_.)

I return ten minutes later with two cups of coffee and a belly full with water.

"Are you ready?"

"Not emotionally, but I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I'd hate for this to be the final thing to drive you off the edge into insanity."

"As long as S.H.I.E.L.D. pays for my psychiatrist, s'all good mi amigo." He doesn't reply, and instead starts towards the car that's been left waiting awhile. We don't really talk much on the car ride to the base, and I nervously sit there and drink my yucky coffee.

And thus begins the journey of a long and strenuous day.

Once we've actually arrived Coulson's just walking around, with me trailing after him, while he's looking for something.

(Or someone.)

(DUN DUN DUNNNNN.)

(Probably someone.)

(Maybe.)

(There's a possibility that everyone here's a robot.)

(And that Coulson's walking me over to the chamber where they give me a super scientific shot and it turns all my insides into whirling gears and completely destroys my personality, and I become just another robot.)

(… Actually, I don't think being a robot would be so bad.)

(At least then I wouldn't have to worry about what Loki's doing to my personnel belongings.)

Coulson motions someone he recognizes over to him.

Darcy, think courage.

Show no fear.

And don't act like an idiot.

"Yes sir?" The man has a door mouse quality to him, a shy business man; completely bald with glasses, he's polite, but only speaks when spoken to. I've seen him around side by side with Coulson, and I can imagine them being kinda-sorta acquaintance/friends.

(Woah, Coulson can have friends?)

(Whhaaaaaaaaaat.)

(Mind blown.)

"Agent Jasper Sitwell, I'd like you to meet Darcy Lewis, one of our new recruits."

I give him an extra happy smile, still making sure to not look like a creep, as I hold my hand out with a small bow of the head.

"Pleased to meet you Ms. Lewis." He takes my hand and gives it a fluid bob up and down, all pro like.

Instead of Sitwell's round fingers all I feel is Loki's brittle twig finger's clinging to mine; reminding me of our deal.

(Don't have a breakdown.)

(_Don't_ have a breakdown.)

(At least not in public.)

"Pleased to meet you too, Mr. Sitwell, you can just call me Darcy."

(Please don't let my façade falter.)

Sitwell doesn't know what to say to that and instead just gives a quick nod, thankfully not noticing if anything's wrong.

(_Phew_.)

"Sitwell, have you seen either Agent Cale or Agent Garrett around lately?"

"They're discussing solutions to our current situation as we speak."

"Are Agents Bridge and Woo with them?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Good. That will be all, thank you." And Coulson's walking again, which means I'm walking again even though I have no idea where the hell he's taking me.

(Or was I supposed to stay with that Sit guy?)

(Oh well, its Coulson's own damn fault for not telling me anything.)

I speed walk to catch up to him, only satisfied once I've caught up.

"Okay, can you please fill me in on what's going on? Because I have no idea."

"You don't happen to know more about Loki, do you?"

"Uh no, sorry."

(I only know where he's living at, and that place happens to be back at my house.)

(Which has probably burned to the ground by now.)

"Well, in that case; we'll just drop by and introduce you to them."

"Them? Cale Garrett Bridge Woo?"

"Agents Cale and Garrett along with Agents G.W. Bridge and Jimmy Woo."

"What's Agents Cale and Garrets' first names?"

"That's classified information."

"Oh of course it is. It would be too convenient if it wasn't."

He shoots me with a questioning glare as one eye brow rises.

"I bet they have really embarrassing first names." He stops looking at me, and instead turns to the front.

"I mean, you must've read their files or something, right?" A small smile works its way slowly along his face; he knows what I want to know.

"Yes, I did read their files, and yes, their first names are somewhat comical."

He's not going to tell me, of course.

(The little piss head.)

"Well what about the rest of 'em, do I get to know any background on them?"

"You can summarize them on your own once you've meet them."

(I'm walking into a hot mess, aren't I?)

I must admit, I am greeted fabulously by one stunning individual who looks like a war mongrel version of that Corneal guy from KFC.

"Who the fuck is that?"

(Well, at least someone here's not a robot.)

"_She _is ournew_ recruit_, Darcy Lewis."

"A _new recruit?_ Coulson, I _better _be day dreamin' because we don't have any damn time to _properly_ _train_ a new recruit."

"Bridge, if I wanted your input, I'd ask for it."

I think this is the first time I've ever heard Coulson this close to angry.

Weird.

(Okay, so that's the Bridge guy.)

"_I'm sorry_; do you _want_ her to end up like the last one?"

WHA-

"_Last one_? W-what happened to the 'last one'?"

It's only when all eyes are on me that I realize there's more people in this room than Coulson and Bridge Bitch Beard.

"The 'last one' was the last recruit we had out here that died."

"… And how'd they die…?"

"His body was found in the middle of the desert, he'd drowned."

"In the middle of the desert?"

"Yes, HYDRA, if you even know what that is, is thought to have been involved." Suddenly, one of the men standing beside Mean Old Fuck steps forward, eyes even and narrowed.

"The giant skull headed snake carved into his back was a big indicator of that…"

(Omigawd… He talks.)

Of course Mean Old Fuck is on the verge of growling at the poor guy, Coulson biting his tongue with a smile as he grabs his arm to stop a brawl from starting.

"Sooo I'm gunna get a skull faced snake carved into my back?" I can feel everyone's eyes turn to me and I try to meet them, finally looking back to Coulson with a shrug and a 'heh' smile.

"If it's of any consultation I have a high tolerance for pain."

(I'm pretty sure Old Fuck wants to _kill_ me.)

"I'd like to see that _high tolerance_ when you get shot for the first time."

"Never know until you try."

"Oh yea-?" He's walking up to me, his index finger pointed, ready to lecture stab me in the shoulder. I do a small side step and grab his hand before he can poke me.

It's not very impressive, but it makes him stop talking.

Ha, his face looks funny when he's confused.

(Too early to celebrate ninja move?)

(Too early to celebrate ninja move.)

"Agent Woo; are these the schematics of the Hulk's holding chamber?" The man who spoke up about the snake carving steps forward next to Coulson, as Coulson looks over the extremely precise drawings.

"Yes sir, they are."

(So that's Agent Woo…)

(Agent Woo is nice in the face.)

(…Just saying.)

"Darcy, I want you to look over these schematics and give them your opinion."

And with that Coulson leaves and I'm standing here and people are staring and fuck my life and gahhhhhh.

"Um…" I hate this; I feel like I should say something, but I don't know what to say.

"I'm, uh, gunna… Gunna look… At _that_… Naow…" I point towards the sketches, looking around, waiting for someone to approve; which no one does, so I just stumble over awkwardly.

Not even ten seconds later and I wish I'd never joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

(Why couldn't I have just stayed on as an intern?)

(I was safe back there.)

They have the general shape of the holding chamber, stray lines flying off of it into what could have been different directions, but it was just more directions never taken. Looking closer it was just a tangled yarn ball, millions of pencil lines of possibility, all centered upon one complete look. But there were newly written edits made in a lighter shade of a writing utensil, revisions to an already finished design.

"Why is this design being altered?"

"So it can work better."

"Why do we need it to work better? The Hulk's already been contained."

I turn around when one of them walks over. His hair is dark, his eyes nice, but he still has that strict code about him that most agents have.

But I'm not really looking at this guy.

Because next to him stands Loki.

The best way to prevent a schizophrenic moment right now is to ignore him.

(Which works out surprisingly well considering that he's being good and not saying anything so far.)

Okay, focus.

Agent nice eyes is about to talk.

"You were involved in the Thor case, correct?"

"A-yep."

"Then you've seen other worldly powers in action, correct?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, we have reason to believe that someone very well read in aforementioned other worldly powers has come to Earth."

(Oh please don't tell me we're talking about who I think we're talking about…)

"_Loki_?"

"Yes… How did you know?"

FUCK.

I WANT TO DIE.

I WANT TO CURL UP IN A HOLE AND DIE.

FUCK.

_**FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK**_.

"Um, uh," My eyes flicker over to Loki, who's standing there; back rigid and eyes wide, staring at me, "Agent Coulson had me photograph and identify the armor we found in a meteor crash."

"These pictures?" Another one of the quiet agents comes forward, handing me a familiar picture that I took barely a week ago.

(Things were so much simpler back then…)

"A-yep."

And back to silence.

Loki looks over my shoulder and down at the picture, his poker face fixed in place as he looks down at his armor, silent as ever. Once he's done looking I place the picture down on the table next to the Hulk's containment cage drawings.

"So, what? We're going to try and capture Loki?"

"No, _we_'_re_ going to try and capture Loki." The mean old guy's back and talking.

"Do you even know what you're up against?"

"Listen _little girl_, we've got experience in getting guys bigger than Loki put back _in their place_."

Loki's radiating pure anger behind me. This guy better watch it.

"Listen _old man_, it doesn't matter how _big _and _strong_ your cage is he's _still_ going to get out, one way or another. And if you want to _somehow _capture him, which I _sincerely doubt_ is even possible _unless he lets you_, you better do some research so you can understand _who_ you're after."

"If you know _so much_ than why don't _you_ design the cage?"

"_You shouldn't even be using a cage in the first place!"_ That certainly came out a lot louder than I intended it to, but he's quieted down, his eyes narrowed. Loki's breath chills my neck.

"What do you mean, 'not use a cage'?"

"Well, why are we even using a cage in the first place? Because someone told you to? When Thor was here no one dared to try and get him 'contained'. Why should Loki be contained?"

"Because he's dangerous."

"Where's the proof?"

"He's supposed to be the God of Mischief."

"So?" I feel Loki's over bearing green eyes burrowing into the back of my skull. I don't know what Loki's trying to achieve, but I'm going to keep talking.

"I mean, just because he's the God of Mischief doesn't mean he should be put into captivity. He hasn't done anything wrong so far, so I don't see the point in arresting him or whatever until he's done something seriously bad."

"Oh yea? You want us to _wait_ until he's '_done something seriously bad_'?"

"I don't know. I just think using a cage would piss him off, why should he be treated any differently than Thor? Plus, I don't think anything we have could actually hold him."

"What? You actually think he's a god?"

"Yea…"

"Wow… Good luck with _that_ idea, kid."

"Well what the hell do _you_ think he is? Please, _enlighten me_."

"Some guy with a lot of power and a huge ego."

"There's a difference between someone who thinks they're a god, and someone who_ is_ a God."

"It's a thin line little girl."

"But it's a line nonetheless." He sighs and rolls his eyes.

(I should be at least al little bit nice to him…)

(He is old.)

(And I am new.)

"Whither he's a god or not, he's still super powerful, so let's not do anything to make him angry… Agreed?"

He gives me a blank, disgusted face before he leaves.

(I love making new friends.)

"Is he always such a bucket of rainbows and flowers, or is it just today?"

"No, he usually acts like this."

"Awesome."

I turn and look back at the three left over guys in the room, trying to guess which one's Cale and which one's Garret because I still can't tell the difference between them.

"Sooooooo, you're Woo," I point so I can make it clear in my head; put a face to his name, "And you'ree…?" He points to himself, he's Mr. Smiley.

"I'm Cale." The guy next to Cale points to himself as well.

"And I'm Garrett." He's the one who gave me the picture of Loki's armor that I took. He holds out his mocha hued hand in a welcoming gesture, which I accept, trying not to be overly friendly to the point where it's creepy, letting go of his hand after a few seconds.

"Hi."

And on a different note:

"Do you guys think Coulson's gunna be pissed off at me?"

"That's debatable. But it was surprisingly brave of you."

DARCY: 3

BRIDGE: 1

… LOKI: 7

(DAMMIT HE'S STILL AHEAD OF ME.)

(ARGH.)

_Concentrate_.

"Well, thanks. People like him really know how to pull people's strings."

(Oh man, I really hope him and Loki don't become friends.)

(Because that would suck a ton of ass.)

(Actually, if those two somehow became friends their big egos would cause the world to explode.)

I check behind me to see if Loki is still here, only to be greeted by his decisive absence.

(How is it that I always manage to get left behind?)

"Anyway, I'm gunna go exploring. Nice meeting you guys. Bye." They all give little nods and words of departure as I silently leave, left to wander and try to figure out where things are in this place in order to make a mental map.

This day has barely begun, and I'm still not sure of what I'm supposed to think about it.

Only time will tell.

(Oh god I sound like Loki.)

…

THE FUCK.

Okay, I've been walking for who the hell even knows how long and I haven't passed by the same land mark twice; even though I tried to find a corridor that would loop me back to whatever room thing I was at before, but that took a weird turn and now _I don't even know what_.

I am going to make a fort out of my clothes, live in my underwear, eat dust bunnies, and piss on a wall for the rest of my life; until one day, Coulson's great grandson will find me and be all 'Ma'am, I think you need to leave' and then he'll lock me up in an insane asylum where I'll make out with a wall until I die.

Okay, that's the plan.

It's always good to have a plan.

I like this plan.

I like this plan a lot.

I'm just going to die alone, sad, and miserable.

(Oh god.)

(I've turned into that Forever Alone meme.)

(OH GOD.)

That shouldn't make me almost start crying but it _does._

I miss people.

I miss Coulson.

I miss Jane.

I miss those people I just meet who names I have already forgotten.

(I don't really miss that mean guy though...)

I miss-

(ARE THOSE REALLY THE ONLY PEOPLE I KNOW?)

(OH GAWD.)

And I guess I miss Loki.

(And his bodyfacevoicepenis.)

_Ding_.

THIS IS ALL LOKIS FAULT.

THIS IS HIS PLAN.

HE STOPS BOTHERING ME.

HE GETS ME LOST.

HE MAKES ME LONELY.

JUST SO I CAN APPRECIATE HIS COMPANY WHEN HE'S BUSY STALKING ME.

WHAT.

A .

_WHORE_.

Well he can just suck my dick 'cuz I don't miss him.

In fact, I like being alone.

Gives me time to think.

About… stuff.

(…)

_I'M GOING TO DIE ALOOOOOOOOOOONE_.

Of course this thought makes my face pinch up all ugly as I kinda-sorta whale sob. My arms are up at my sides and flailing like I'm a raptor thing from 'Jurassic Park'. I do this for a while until I slide down against the wall, my butt on the floor, and curl up into a little ball. And from that point I continue to make cringe worthy crying noises.

And yes, this is what my life has turned into.

Dammit.

And, with my luck, Loki happens to show up while I'm in the midst of rubbing my face against the wall.

"I leave you alone for an hour and _this_ is what you're doing?"

"I DIDN'T MISS YOU."

"_Wha_-?"

But then I'm standing and he's close and then he's closer and then I can't see his face 'cuz my face is burrowed into his chest and he smells like good.

And like four leaf clovers.

I pull back and away, his arms stiff along his side, shoulders boxed, face hollowly surprised.

It's… Surprisingly, sadly, cute.

He looks very cute when he's all sad and whatever.

Like a kicked puppy.

Or a kitten who's family just got run over.

Yes.

That's cute.

(_I love animals_.)

"So, where have you been?"

(Oh man.)

(I must've looked like a crazy person.)

(Like, more of a crazy person.)

(Like, more of the crazy person that I am now.)

(Like that.)

"Around." His voice is quiet. Something's bothering him. Something he's probably not going to tell me about. Something I wish he'd tell me about.

"Well, any chance you know the way out?" His eyes are now pasted to the ground.

"A room of training resides twenty or so feet from here."

"Sweet."

Are people gunna be there?

HOMIGAWD PEPLE.

I LOBE PEPLE.

I LOBE PEPLE SOOOO MUCH.

(It's official.)

(I need to get out more.)

And now I'm walking those twenty feet, Loki in pursuit; and it's nice to play leader for once, to have a just of an idea as to where we're going.

(What's caused the sudden shift in Loki?)

(All I did was hug him…)

_Ding_.

(Ohhhhhhhh…)

(Oh I get it.)

(He's not big on the whole touching thing, is he?)

(Figures.)

(The sexiest guy within a one hundred mile radius and he has issues with physical contact.)

_Fffffffffffuuuu_.

Ugh, doesn't matter, I found a door.

"Is this it?"

"It should be."

It looks like it is.

I mean if I had to give a gym place a door, I'd pick this one.

It's very… Gym-y.

My hand hits frigid metal as I twist the cool door handle and it opens, welcoming my ears to the sound of someone beating something else.

Beautiful.

Gotta love violence after you just had a mental break in an empty hallway.

It's just what the doctor ordered.

I look around and spot the source of the sound;

And it is just what the doctor ordered.

A shirtless, ripped, sexy, sweating guy boxing against a matted pad.

(I love S.H.I.E.L.D.)

(This job was the best idea EVUR.)

Time to ask directions in a somewhat if-you-squint flirting way.

"Hey!" My smile is kind, wide, and friendly; waving my hand as I walk closer.

Aaaaaaaaand he hasn't noticed.

"_Hey_!" I shout a bit louder, set off by how much of a jerk off he's being. But now I'm within five feet of him, so I give it another shot, and him another chance.

"HEY!" This finally gets me noticed; he's turned around and has an apologetic confused look on his cute mug. But by now my smile is as good as gone. His eyes are wide as he scrambles to grab something from the bench, leaving me as I start to get a little bit pissed off. He murmurs something loud and jumbled, like he's being taught how to speak.

"Ait un sec."

He's found it and slips it into his ear, instantly lightening up with a pleasant smile, and it's like I've already forgotten why I was pissed off in the first place.

"Hi, sorry about that. Couldn't hear you." He gestures back up to the thing he just put in his ear.

Wha-?

"Oh, is that-?" He nods with understanding, still nice and courteous.

(Hey Loki, take notes.)

"It's a hearing device, fresh off of STARK INDUSTRIES."

"Oh."

(I'm going to hell.)

"Sorry about that."

(It's not too late to apologize right?)

(Right.)

Oh wow he's still shirtless.

And sweaty.

And sexy.

And _neugh_.

"Its okay, happens all the time. What's your name again?"

Dayum, between him and Loki my brain is _fried_.

"Um, my name is Darcy Lewis. And yours?"

"Clint Barton."

THAT LIST FROM THE BAR.

THIS IS GUY NUMBER TWO.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

"_Oh_."

"I just recently joined the Avenger's, so I figured I'd practice a bit. What are you doing here?"

"I'm a new recruit and I got lost."

"We all have our first days."

He is yum.

Speaking of yum…

Where's Loki?

Before I can even turn my head I feel him resting his chin on my shoulder, a hand slinking around my waist.

"Darcy. Hurry up. I wish to move on."

(What was I thinking about him and his issue of physical contact?)

I should learn to stop trying to understand this guy.

"So, you're an Avenger? Any cool 'super hero' name?" A little flirting couldn't hurt…

"My name's Hawk Eye."

"Hot guy? That's pretty forward. I mean sure you're hot, but still…"

"No, _Hawk Eye_."

"Yea, _Hot guy_."

"No, HAWK. EYE. Like a HAWK's EYE. Like the bird?"

(… I want to die.)

"Ohhhhh! I get it. Like a bird… Okay, I'm smart."

I can't stop blushing.

Ugh, I'm an idiot.

"It's okay."

"Well, um, I better get going. I'll see you around?"

"Yea, sure. If you ever need a tour or anything, I'm sure you can find me. Bye."

"Bye."

Darcy's over and out.

And I'm ducking away down hallways again.

Loki's laugh curls down from his throat sarcastically as he follows behind me.

"_Smooth_."

"Oh _shush _you."


	12. Blue

**Hey guys, I'm back. So happy to be able to at least submit one chapter over Thanksgiving break...**

**Small notes about this chapter: LOKI MIGHT BE A LITTLE OOC. There's a scene where he can be viewed as opening up to Darcy (a little ooc) or making her feel bad for him (not so ooc).**

**Anyway that's all, I might not be able to submit many chapters over winter break though, but we shall see. **

**Tell me what you think! ;D**

**~D.o.t.B.**

"Loki, we're going food shopping."

"No, _you're_ going food shopping."

(Le sigh.)

We've been going on like this for the better part of ten minutes.

"Loki, please, if you want me to get the food you like then you need to come with me. Okay?"

"I like Asgardian food."

"Earth doesn't _have_ Asgardian food."

"That's not my problem, now is it Miss Lewis?"

"What the hell crawled up your ass and died?"

"Well, if you really must know, I had all my hopes and dreams burned to Hel recently." My forehead meets the steering wheel, trying to find comfort.

(He's been like this all morning.)

I sit up and look back to him, exasperated and clearly not in the mood for this; I still try to make him feel better.

(When I agreed to be his eternal servant _whatever_, I never thought I'd be agreeing to become his pep squad leader on his Pity Committee.)

"Okay, I'm sorry for the drama you're recently enduring, really, I am. But my kitchen is empty and so is my stomach, so we need to get food; and I'd rather you come with me and get what you want instead of me waltzing in there and getting stuff you hate. So you can either tell me what's wrong and I can try to help you with what you're going through, or you can cut the shit and help me; because, don't be surprised, but what affects me affects you too. Okay?"

"_Fine_."

"Now was that so hard?"

"_You have _no_ idea_."

He has this pained look on his face, like he's swallowed glass.

(Or swallowing his tears…)

(…)

(Oh wow, we both woke up on the wrong side of emo today, didn't we?)

"Forget it, we'll go shopping later. We will go eventually, and I will drag your ass with me wither you like it or not, this isn't over buddy." I take a little detour to the local ice cream shop, blowing my bangs out of my eyes in a small bout of anger.

_Sooooo hungry_…

(Look on the Brightside, at least now I can eat some ice cream.)

We don't talk for the rest of the drive, with Loki practicing the art of brooding and me too damn awkward to summon small talk; but we arrive soon enough, finding a parking spot close to the shop. Once the cars parked I open the door and get out, noticing instantly when Loki doesn't follow. I turn and open the passenger's car door, ready to yell at him.

"Look, if you really don't-."

He steps out with his stride easy yet demanding, and suddenly he is very close to me.

"_Thank you_."

(What. A. Prick.)

Of course he wants me to open the door for him.

But I don't tell him this, and instead fast walk to keep up with him. And much to his chagrin he doesn't know where to go and instead ends up following me, much to my delight; it takes all I have in me not to chide 'You need me'.

Then again, him being a God, it's always good to stay valuable.

When we get inside he skims a glance at the ice cream containers before ordering a pistachio ice cream while I get a double scoop of vanilla and strawberry with rainbow sprinkles on top. Once we're served I walk over to a booth, him in pursuit, and sit down with him across from me, leaving me with no where to look besides my ice cream. I start eating, eager to fill my empty belly, only noticing Loki's eyes when he starts to look confused.

"Pardon me, but that_ is_ how you're to eat 'ice cream', correct?"

(Is he suggesting I don't know how to eat ice cream?)

Wait a second; has he ever had ice cream?

"Um, uh, yea. You just kinda lick it, with your tongue…Be careful not to bite it though."

(Well _that_ certainly sounded sexual.)

"Why can't I bite it?"

(RESIST SEXUAL INUENDO.)

(RESSSSSSSSSSSSSIST.)

"That's what he said."

"Um, why yes, that is what I said; thank you for reiterating that for me. Mind you I am not a 'she'."

(I don't resist things well.)

(Loki is living proof of this.)

"Now, why can't I bite _this_?"

"Because it's really cold and will hurt your teeth."

His eyes narrow in a challenged glare, biting into his ice cream.

(Someone's feeling rebellious.)

"I have a high tolerance for pain.

"Yet this dish is eloquently delicious, and I give thanks for the introduction."

"Uhh, yea no problem."

We don't talk at all but he's not as cranky as he was earlier, which is good, I hate when people are cranky.

(But I don't care if Loki's cranky, because that's his own business and I don't care at all, I don't even care why he'd be cranky, not that he would tell me, but that's beside the point because I don't care. I only care when it affects me, I don't care about him at all. Uh huh. And even if he did tell me I'd only maybe listen, and that would only be because I was bored, not because I'm interested.)

(…)

(I'm a sad person.)

(I am a sad, sad little person.)

"You know you can talk to me, right? About, like, whatever bothers you and stuff. I mean, not that it's any of my business or anything, but like…"

(What would bother a God?)

"Politics and stuff, you know?"

"No, I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Lewis." He's genuinely confused…

"Well, like…"

I care, and I want to help you, because I don't like seeing you upset about something; seeing you upset scares me, I want to stop whatever it is that puts you in pain and help you get over it.

"Yes?"

"N-never mind, it's not important. I'm being stupid." He looks like he's about to say something, but he doesn't, so I don't, and we stay in silence until I notice his lips.

"Uh, Loki? Your lips look a little blue…"

He freezes; thorn as a deer in the headlights.

"_What_."

"Your lips look _really_ blue. Wait a sec-."

I'm leaning over the table to get a closer look, grabbing his face in both hands, eyes narrowed in examination. Soon realizing I'm not nearly close enough I let go and stand up, running across to his side of the booth, taking handfuls of his face yet again.

Looking back at it; it's kinda amazing he didn't push me away…

"Woah, what have you been eating?"

"Not much, nothing actually; not after I ransacked your kitchen."

(Seems closeness makes him tell the truth; I haven't really seen him eat in a while.)

"Hmm, that's weird."

If I hadn't of had my eyes on the blue I would have noticed the straight, thin line his lips had compressed into in a fit of nervous anxiety.

Then I realize that I am indeed holding his unfairly gorgeous face in close proximity to my own and how much my lips itch to slap them against his own.

Don't do it.

(But I want to, he's so close…)

No. This is wrong.

(_If he's wrong I don't want to be right_.)

Now you're just being cliché.

(NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEGH.)

Clearing my throat I release my grip, ignoring the fact that he stays frigid by my side, still painfully close.

"Well, um, yea. I don't know why your lips are blue." I turn away and look back to the other side, feeling a little comfortably claustrophobic near him. I don't know what to do so I scoot over and make room, him still staring at me as I drag my ice cream over. He soon says something I wish I didn't hear.

"Did you just become concerned for me?"

"What?"

"Just now, you looked like you were concerned: for _me_."

"No, no I'm not, I mean, I wasn't." His eyes suddenly widen with surprise obvious in his voice as he points the accusing finger at me.

"_You just blinked_."

"People usually blin-."

"No, your eye lids shut _twice,_ in a row."

"_So_? My eyes got a little dry; we're in New Mexico that's bound to happen-." His voice is incredulous and fond, a smile tugging at his lips, green eyes alight.

"_You just lied_."

"No I didn't." He leans back, a smug smile in place, looking like he's won the lottery.

"_Suuuuuure_ you didn't."

"I did _not_ lie."

(I totally did.)

"Prove it."

"I don't care, and I am _not_ concerned for your well being."

"Well now that time you looked away…"

(He's got me. Fuck.)

"And so what if I do care, why wouldn't I? You are my friend." And with that he's sobered up.

"I would _not_ call this friendship."

"Well then what would you call it?"

"We're merely warm acquaintances."

_Ouch_…

I found it hard not to visually stiffen as I stood up, dusting myself while trying not to glare and failing.

"Well then, not-friend, I'm leaving."

"You intend to leave me here? By myself?"

"Yea, I mean it's not like I care."I'm smiling bitterly and stomping away, building barriers with each unspoken insult thrumming in my head.

(Fucker had it coming.)

…

_I watch my yellow cat invade my red cat in the yard_

_The feline war has raged for years so I assume it'd be too hard _

_For me to drive my foot between them;_

_I would never risk the scratch_

_Just to prove to one, or both of them, a cat is just a cat._

The music is loud and probably damaging my ears but I don't care because _damn it all it's therafuckingpeutic_.

You know what? This just goes to show I shouldn't be nice to everyone.

(But…)

No buts.

(Loki's my boss…)

So? I don't have to nice to him.

(But… it's _Loki_.)

What is that supposed to mean? Just because he's a little butthurt he gets to be a jerk off and not suffer consequences? Oh yea, _that's _professional.

(He's just having a hard time…)

A hard time doing _what_, exactly? Laying around and stalking me? Oh the poor boy, someone get him a lollipop.

(Or ice cream…)

Shut up. I don't need your opinion and I didn't ask for your input.

(I just think-.)

And that's exactly your problem. He's a grown man he can take care of himself.

(But-.)

But what? We're done thinking about it.

(But I want to take care of him.)

Well deal with it.

(How?)

Hell should I know?

(…Dammit.)

This music is suddenly painfully loud and giving me a headache so I tug out the ear buds and look to the sky. The sun is moving to set, my car is parked far away, and I'm sitting atop a pile of garage in the old junk yard, angsting myself away to ruin.

I kinda hate myself right now.

I should have said 'no' to Loki the moment he made any binding offer.

But I didn't and know I'm buried and buried deep.

Dammit.

I think I'll just stay here and rot in the kingdom of useless things.

Maybe I'll make myself queen while I'm at it.

(And Loki could be king-.)

No Loki can't be king.

_No_.

(Humble servant?)

Yes.

A sexy servant who will be denied the ownership of a shirt. Or pants. Or socks.

Actually, he won't be allowed to wear any clothes at all.

And he'll get a jacket _maybe_ in winter.

And that will only be when he's bringing in the trash cans.

And not being an asshole.

_Maybe_.

I'm lying on the roof of a car, staring up at color blended sky, when Loki shows up. Coming quite literally out of nowhere, but his sudden appearance is somewhat predicted. Not the swirling dark smoke and oh-hey-it's-Loki shindig, but the fact that he showed up; somehow I saw that coming.

I throw a half hearted hola at him and he stands there staring down at me before dropping a hollow hello at me. Once we've exchanged the accustomed greetings he holds up his awkward barriers as I sit up in typical nonchalance and lazy boldness.

"Are you in pain?"

"What? N-no."

"You look like you're in pain. You do that a lot you know. The pain thing. Your forehead scrunches up and you jaw gets all tight and your eyes-."

"Why are you nice to me?"

(Oh-kay…)

"I don't see any reason not to be…" He sits down next to me.

"Darcy I'm going to tell you something and once I start I might not be able to stop. Understand?"

"…Oh."

(BWAAAAAAAAAHT?)

He's so awkwardly forward and insecure it's cute.

"And it's something you should know too…"

"Uh huh?" He's looking straight ahead, hands fisted at his side, as wound up a I've ever seen him.

"I'm adopted."

(Is that al-?)

"And I killed my biological father."

(WHAT.)

"And I'm as good as dead to what little family I had. And the man who pretended to be my Father lied to me and used me for the purpose of the crown and to further his own power.

And in the end he still announced my brother king, knowing how long I had prepared for it and how hard I had worked for it; and yet he still made Thor king even though he never tried, simply because he was older and the 'true heir' to the crown. In fact it always felt like he used Thor's older age as an excuse to choose him, even though he chose Thor for the crown the second he was born, while I was never even taken into consideration.

People always clung to him because of that; everyone wants to be on the good side of the future king. It doesn't help that Thor always had a way of making people smile.

It's strange, you know, Thor was the first to lie out of the two of us… He always told people what was good about them, without mentioning the bad; always told woman they were pretty. I told them the truth, trying to offer ways of improvement, but they took it as insults and spited me for it. After a while I simply stopped talking, since everyone loathed what I would say; goes to show that people never really want to hear the truth.

It's easier to lie when you can believe that it's true.

In my father's eye I was forever useless, no matter how hard I tried. And soon that same idea spread to everyone in the kingdom, and I was all but exiled from social society; which makes sense now, being adopted and Laufey's son.

I am the monster that my father's kingdom hates.

I am the spare prince no one wanted.

Not even my biological father wanted me when I was first born. Did you know that he left me to die, simply because I was too small for his liking?

I'm a joke no one took seriously and once they did it was too late.

Now that I think about it; I don't think Father ever said he loved me.

I'm sure he told Thor that, of course.

I just… I don't know what to do.

I'm on my own now.

It feels like everything I've ever done was in the name of acceptance, so someone could be proud of me.

But now, knowing that I will never be accepted, that no one will ever take pride in my accomplishments, I'm free to do as I please. I'm not chained down by the will of my father or my family or by any of the other gods. I have nothing to lose; I've already lost it all.

I'll never see my family again. In a way I'm okay with that, but I'll always morn their absence. I hate them for seeing what I've become and for letting it happen, yet I can't hate them; hatred buried deep in love.

I'm just getting used to things, and it's not exactly easy.

I just… I felt like you should know _why_… Why I've been, as you say, an asshole lately.

I'm still adapting, with every morning I wake up thinking I'm home and then realizing I'm not; and it's hard, dealing with that. I've been living for thousands of years and suddenly there is this huge schism and I'm stuck on the other side… I guess it's simply for the best, but I'm sure if this is the best for me. In fact I'm not even sure if I know what's best for me anymore.

But, Darcy, thank you.

I don't know what I'm thankful for exactly; but I appreciate it dearly."

Shit what do I say? He's pretty much bared his soul to me…

(Dear Loki, I think you are one of the cutest and saddest people I ever met, but rest assured you may use my boobs as pillows any time you wish, Sincerely, Darcy.)

I mean, this is extremely unlike him.

(Maybe it's not Loki?)

I look over at him, my eyes tracing over the outline of his pale profile against the soon to be night sky.

Yea, it's definitely Loki.

(No one could imitate that kind of beauty.)

"Well… It does kind of make a lot of sense, and I know you don't want pity or anything, and I don't pity you; I just feel bad that you've had to deal with this for… _thousands_, of years. But thank you for telling me, I haven't exactly been the nicest person either, hun. We all have bad days… Weeks… Months… Maybe years… But eventually we get over it and we're stronger than we used to be. And whatever you need in order to help you get over this I will try to do, I promise. And you know what? You can just do whatever your little heart desires, okay? Just do whatever makes you happy. Because I want to see you happy 'cuz I don't think you've been nearly as happy as you should be."

There's a speck of a smile on his face and it's hard not to fist pump.

"You mean to act as though you remain unfazed knowing that I am Thor's adopted brother?"

"Okay, so maybe I'm a _little_ fazed…"

You know what, maybe, _just maybe_; Loki can rule beside me and be king of useless things too.


	13. For What it's Worth

**I'm back, and I love you guys, sorry it's been so long.**

**This chapter was hard to write but I ripped it out after six hours, completly unbetaed so I apologize for any mistakes.**

**Love you all again, you're amazing.**

**Until next we meet.**

**Sincer, D.o.t.B.**

My day starts with four words I never thought in a million years I'd hear Coulson say:

"Take off your clothes."

"_Excuse me_."

(Who needs coffee to wake you up when you have a boss like this?)

"We need to take your measurements for your training suit."

(OH THANK GOD.)

"Oh. Okay. I still demand dinner for this."

"They're serving waffles in the cafeteria, I'll grab you a plate."

(Since when do we have a cafeteria…?)

"Oh, uh thanks bro. Where do I-?"

"Changing room is down the hall and to the right, once you are situated in your undergarments exit through the other door to a room full of mirrors and wait for the people with measuring tapes to arrive; understood?"

"Ayep. Thank ya kindly."

The changing room thankfully isn't as cold as I thought it would be, I just wish I was wearing matching underwear, but I'm not so they're gunna have to deal with it.

And… I don't really like standing in front of a mirror half naked.

Don't get me wrong, I'm basically okay with my body and stuff, I've been told a million times I'm pretty to the point it doesn't really matter, but I don't… like being, what? Exposed…? Like _that_.

Because honestly, it's not the over the top boobs and the lace and the extra pounds, honey no, I'll wear that stuff to my grave 'cuz I wanna; fuck it if I'm not a stick.

But it's the… scar.

Yea fuck you I'm a bit of scaredy cat of certain things.

I'm not _that_ brave, sometimes.

The scar itself isn't that big of a deal, isn't that long or big or impressive; just a scratch from a knife pressed too close to the skin, sharp enough to leave a dent. A little chip in the paint of an otherwise fully functioning if not 'quirky' car.

(On that note, if I was a car, I'd be a neon green buggy.)

(I fucking love those things.)

I try to calm my tits and wrestle down whatever tendrils of fear I seem to have left, and loud and proud I model walk into the room like I'm here for a page in an underwear magazine, because who are we kidding? I just might be. When S.H.I.E.L.D. finally decides not to be a sneaky little shit about everything I'll trust them not to pull random shenanigans like that, but until then I'll stay paranoid thank-you-very-much.

What I didn't seem to account for were mirrors, which were everywhere, which made me self conscious.

Again.

(There is a secret curse between the female sex and mirrors, for that more often than not when a mirror is placed in front of a said female; she tends to lose any and all sense of true self. Instantly, within mere milliseconds, she will bare witness to the reveal of all her flaws, the smudged eye liner, salad teeth, and fly away hair, oh yes, she is overwhelmed with horror. The curse consists of this as well the females desire to stay inside, preferably on the internet, and never come out. Ever again.)

In short; everything that looked tolerable looks worse.

And there are people here, moderately attractive very pretty people here.

(I don't want to live.)

At least they're both girls and have had days where they don't like how they look, so maybe they can let the imperfections slide.

(Who am I kidding? The only girls who feel like that are still stuck inside.)

NO. NO. NO.

(Open your mind.)

(…)

(Okay, maybe they have.)

(_Maaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyybeee_.)

It's this train of thought that distracts me from their measurement taking, which is even more personnel invasion that I get to deal with, 'cuz apparently housing the God of Mischief isn't enough for the universe to torture me with, when I spot the all too familiar green printed eyes in front of me.

When a second ticks by I both realize that it is in fact him and that he's not exactly here so I can't exactly act like he's here so I can express both my surprise and embarrassment which means I must summon my ever fail of a poker face.

Which fails and I'm left making the derpiest of all derps.

I hope these people are paid and paid well.

(Paid well not to talk about this or take pictures of my face and put it on the internet because if they do I will cut them.)

(Unless it gets turned into a meme.)

(Then it's okay.)

I refuse to look at Loki.

If I do, he'll do more things to make my already shattered poker face break.

And I can't have that.

(It will be like letting him _win_.)

…Again…

And that's when he very obviously begins to circle, eyes tick-tocking up and down, up and down and I swear I will slap him once this is all over with.

_Darcy_, _concentrate_.

Happy Place.

Happy Place.

Happy Place.

Happy Place-with-Loki-wearing-only-pistachio-ice-cream-to-cover-his-parts-all-hot-and-bothered.

(…)

(_…_)

(_**…**_)

I hate myself.

I really, really do.

I am my own greatest enemy.

I am my own destruction.

_DAMMIT_.

Somehow five minutes stretches into five hours and then they let me go and I am free, so gloriously free to make as many herp derps in public as I please without judgment.

I must be having an off-day or something, because yet again it takes me a couple seconds to realize who I'm looking at once I'm fully dressed and out the door.

Nice leathered ass.

Bull dog puppy face.

Sand paper eyes.

And a nice little jagged smile.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing." Flirting: initiate.

"People don't smile about nothing."

"Too bad I'm not like most people."

"That's a bit of an understatement." He's walked up from leaning against the wall and stands two feet away, all friendly like. Kinda nice. But he's paused, for a second, before he moves again.

"You're names Darcy, right?"

"Yep, and you're…. Hot guy?" He's still smiling…

"Hawkeye. Clint, Clint Barton."

"Okay, hopefully I will actually remember this time." There's a speck of awkward silence before he cuts in.

"_So_, its official, your suits gunna be coming in soon."

"Never soon enough to fight off the _hordes _of evil running around." I sound lame but it earns a laugh, so really, that's all that matters.

"True, but it's a good sign. Means someone up there takes you seriously."

"And that person is Coulson. Who might be getting a transfer if rumors are true, and without him I'm lunch meat for the dogs and Bridge rips me apart where I fall into a pool of forgotten wannabe agents. Awesome." I can't help but let out a cliché sigh, it actually hurts to think about it all.

"Oh come on, you're more than bullies like Bridge are worth, you have a spark sitting in the ashes, and that's what's important. Make them see that. And cheer up, Phil's gunna be kept up flying back and forth from here to New York nonstop, you've got nothing to fear."

"I can't believe I'm going to miss him."

"Me too, you're the only new recruit who is."

"He's just… He's like that grumpy little gnome that sits on your front yard, the one you always trip over running to catch the bus 'cuz he's so caked in mud you never notice him, and it's not until your Dad's uprooted him that realize how much me means to you. Dammit. Imma miss Philly Cheese steak."

(DON'T FUCKING CRY DARCY.)

(_DON'TFUCKING CRY_.)

"Wait, what did you just say?"

"Um… 'Philly Cheese Steak'?"

"… That's what you call him?"

(Oh please, please don't think I'm a creep, please.)

But then a deep laugh went rumbily-tumbily and erupted and I was saved from being socially ostracized.

(And there was much silent rejoicing, and it was good.)

"Oh my god, that's hilarious! I never would have thought of that!" And then he's laughing again which makes me laugh and it just kind of looped like that and Loki's standing behind me, hating me.

(Pssssht, I'll make it up to him later.)

(In some not-sexual way.)

(Yea.)

(…)

(FUCK DON'T THINK LIKE THAT.)

(.)

(I hope you're happy with yourself.)

('Cuz I know I'm not.)

"Hey Darcy, I have some higher ups I gotta talk to, but I'll see you around." His calloused hand brushes my shoulder in a light squeeze that doesn't last long, but it feels like a promise.

"Evidently so. See ya Clint." I turn in the direct of the entrance/exit, one of the few places I can actually find in this labyrinth of a 'work place'.

I'm barely ten feet when I see Agent Coulson himself, hiding behind a pillar.

And… I don't know… he's got a weird look on his face…

If it was on anyone else's face I'd say they looked…

I dunno, maybe it's 'cuz he's not appreciated enough but-.

He looked…

Happy and sad.

And shit if that's not enough.

Yes, yes I did cry a little.

Only teeny tiny trails of tears.

Enough to be embarrassed about.

"SHUT UP CHEESE STEAK."

(I'm so good with words.)

And then I storm out and pretend it didn't happen.

But it did and it was kinda-sorta cute and that guy is such a gnome.

It's adorkable.

Really adorkable.

It makes me feel proud for some reason, I don't know why; I just remember what me and Clint said:

"_I can't believe I'm going to miss him."_

"_Me too, you're the only new recruit who is."_

How can no one else miss him?

I mean, c'mon, he's Coulson!

Super secret badass Coulson!

Fuck people, I don't get them, never have never will.

So I run away to my car and strap in and Loki's nowhere to be found, not that I'm complaining; and with my speed it doesn't take long to get home, where Loki occupies the computer chair, typing away, smug as a bastard.

I go to the kitchen to cut an apple as he immediately closes down whatever he was looking at, which should have made me suspicious, but I was too hungry to really care about anything besides food.

"How fared your social interaction?"

(The hell? He makes it sound like fucking boat…)

"My social interaction fared well… Why?"

"Simply curious, and as always I thought I should provide small talk." Bullshit.

"Well then, can you tell me why you were spying on me while I was getting measurements?"

"I was checking in on you to make sure all was well."

"Which was coincidentally when I was in my underwear?"

"Completely coincidental. Besides, you've seen me in far less before; I don't see what the problem is, Darcy." He drops my name enough to distract me, making my hand slip before a rattling jolt of pain wakes me up.

"Sonofabitch!"

"What did I do this time?"

"Not you, knife sliced my hand, _ow ow ow ow_." I take my hand over to the sink to wash the cut clean while Loki hangs over the sink like it's the most interesting thing in the world, which is slightly morbid considering that there's a surprisingly large amount of blood.

"Darcy, no, _don't_-." His voice is strained, taunt, and there's an edge of something gut shaking like fear.

Loki should not be afraid.

Loki has _nothing_ to fear.

But he is and it sets me off faster than a warning when I rip my hand out from under the faucet.

"_What is it_?" Somehow I sound calm despite the fact that he's eying my hand with a nervous twinge, driving me crazy with worry.

"_Loki what is it_?"

"Please don't be mad at me." There's a glint of pleading.

(_Who is this guy and what has he done to Loki_?)

"Loki, I promise."

"Liar." He slinks down onto the couch like the drama queen he is while I look back to my hand.

Okay, it's probably nothing.

There is no reason to freak out.

Nothing's wrong with your hand.

Loki's just looking for attention.

He's like a cat.

Playing with you for attention.

That's it.

Nothing is-THE FUCK.

WHAT THE FUCK.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.

THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE.

THAT IS NOT HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

Because somehow, someway, my hands healed.

Completely fucking healed.

"LOKI WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" I've run over and can't keep the scream from my voice while he covers his eyes with his hands, acting all exasperated.

"You said you wouldn't be mad…"

Fuck.

I did.

Didn't I?

"Okay, Loki, I'm sorry. This," I fling my formerly injured hand around, "defies everything I know, so I can't help but react negatively but can you please _pretty please_ tell me what just happened to me? 'Cuz I feel like I'm in the Twilight zone and this is way too weird for me."

Loki raises his hands above his eyes, checking to see if it's safe, noting the fact that I am in fact relatively quiet as compared to my outburst.

"Hm. Well, it's kind of a complement, actually. I wish you could have found out on a later date, but oh well, can't always get what I want. Anyway, I placed a spell on you Darcy Lewis." He stops to make sure I get it, which I do and I just want him to talk this is my life dammit.

"A spell that would cause you to heal from any such injury inflicted upon you. Understood?"

Straight to the facts.

"Why."

"And here's the compliment. You see, you've been deemed… through lack of a better word, worthy, to survive an injury. As in, whatever happens to you, I want you to live through it. What I'm saying is that you've been deemed worthy to stay alive, Darcy."

"So, what? You like my company and you want me to stay around?"

"Well yes, and I don't want you to feel limited while fighting."

"'_While fighting'_? You haven't even seen me fight, hell, you _know _I can't fight. I haven't begun training I don't know how to-I don't know, karate chop someone's face, swinging monkey nut kick-I don't know! Why would you do that?"

His eyes have that look, a flecked slate drowned in an intense dark discourse.

"I want you to be more."

"_More than what_?"

"You're not meant for servant life, I want you to be more than that; widen your horizons and make you a real fighter Darcy, someone to be reckoned with, a force of nature, a warrior, Darcy Lewis.

"You wouldn't have to, of course. But the offer for more is there, if you're tempted." He eases back to let me breathe.

"I don't know. This feels way bigger than becoming a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent… But if I did, would you teach me… You know, how to fight?" His eyes are even and a comfort.

"Yes. Yes I would."

"Oh. Okay."

"Don't sound so damn disappointed."

"I'm not! I swear!" And just like that the serious moment is gone, thank goodness.

"Bullshit."

"So, wait, I just to clarify, so basically, I can't die, right?"

"Correct."

"I guess that makes me… HA." I stand up, voice ready to yell.

"I'M IMMORTAL!"

"Yes yes you are now keep your voice down, the neighbors will hear you."

"PFFFFFFFFFT I DON'T CARE. LET THE WORLD KNOW BRO."

"I'm not your brother, I never wa-."

"Oh shush face, we're getting movies and pop corn and ice cream; not get your ass in the car!"

"Such a lady, are you not?"

"Damn right I am."

…

I'm getting out of my car not even thinking after giving Loki a 'good bye' wave, this being one of the days I get to be near Jane I'm excited for once, not just nervous of failure or disappointment or some other bug stormy cloud above my head. I've walked out next to the side of the building, and I can't see my car anymore, but I can see Jane.

Coulson's out there standing next to her, and I know that he has most definitely not mentioned our Hallmark moment to anyone, and he won't bring it up in front of her in case it makes him look like he has feelings. I ignore it I'm smiling and Jane's waving, when I hear my name being called.

And there he is. There he fucking is.

"Darcy!"

Loki drove the car up, parked it, and has run out, my jacket in hand, trailing after me.

Right in front of S.H.E.I.L.D. head quarters the very God of Mischief, the very God they're looking for, has run forward to one of their most trusted agent and genius astrophysicist, to give me my jacket.

I don't even need a jacket.


End file.
